Hunter Of The Shadows
by skag trendy
Summary: Top Secret Fic for Darksupernatural. Happy Birthday! Teenage Sam and Dean on a hunt with their father, but when things go badly wrong it drastically alters the Winchester family dynamics. Will the boys survive? Lots of LIMP Sam and Protective Dean.
1. Chapter 1

**Hunter of the Shadows**

**Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'**

**In Honour of Darksupernatural's birthday.**

**By Skag Trendy**

_**Foreword by Jen Burch.**_

**I've been honoured to be asked to not only beta this incredible and unprecedented fic, but also to write a foreword for it. I can tell you, I've never had such a wonderful and exciting project to be involved in and am so proud of it and of ST's work, and of my own involvement. I'm grateful to be part of such amazing inspiration and also touched to be trusted with such a special project :)**

**This fic is something so completely different from anything I've ever read, but it's not in a bad way at all. There's an incredible understanding of the brothers, their relationship, their lives and the effect that different decisions/events could make to who they are. They grow together and independently, and that relationship that we have all loved so much is something that becomes all the more touching. It's a beautiful story and there's something so different and indescribable about it but it's really an atmosphere that I've thrived on and fallen in love with but could never really put into words.**

**When you find a fic that, late at night when you can't sleep, you find your mind wandering to and drawing comfort from, you know you've found an amazing fic.**

**ST has worked so long and hard on this piece and I know it's something close to her heart, but I also know how concerned she's been about it. I stand (sit at my laptop hee) here, before ST and the rest of the fic world, and say easily: give this fic a go and you will never regret it. There is just something so special about it, it's more than worth the journey :)**

**So, on with the show and a big happy birthday to Darksupernatural.!**

**Chapter 1**

**Warning/Author's notes: Character death – not the boys!!! Fairly dark and blood thirsty. Bad language.**

**This is completely different from my usual AUs for several reasons. For one it's written from a character's POV which is a new experience for me so please be patient. Also, most of my readers know that I'm a big fan of John Winchester so this fic is particularly difficult given what he does and what transpires as a result.**

**But when I have taken away...I always give something back and this time I give in the form of the very sexy Hugh Jackman as the charming and mysterious Tobius Le Salle (think of his role in Kate and Leopold and you come very close).**

**This story also sees the return of one of our favourite bad guys.**

**This was influenced by Angel, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, but most of all by the wonderful and talented author Kelly Armstrong. Her supernatural books have been a real inspiration to me.**

**Out of all characters I would have to say that Dean changes the most in this AU, but without giving too much away he still remains his usual snarky and sarcastic lovable self and I adore him for it.**

**Many many thanks go out to Jen Burch for the beta and Sendintheclowns for her rallying support, without which I may have lost heart long ago.**

**Synopsis:_ Supernatural AU. Teenage Sam and Dean on a hunt with their father but when things go badly wrong it drastically alters the Winchester family dynamics. Will the boys survive? Lots of LIMP Sam and Protective Dean. Nasty psychotic John._**

_**A story told from Dean's POV.**_

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**Chapter 1**

**Dean grins into the cam corder.**

**"I decided to keep a video journal. Just don't tell Sam; I'll never live it down." He glances over at the other bed in the room, smile faltering a little. "He's had a rough time but at least we found somewhere safe. However long that lasts." Dean turns back again, this time his grin isn't quite so good humoured, more _desperate_. "But there's a few things you need to know. Are you sitting comfortably children? Then I'll begin...**

**...at the end."**

_Present day..._

Bullets zipped overhead as we scrambled through the undergrowth and I signalled to him to _get a damn move on_.

The landscape was scrubby and bare, little more than waste ground with very little cover; getting in had been easy but getting out was proving a bitch. We'd already run into two patrols and only came out of it with our asses intact by sheer dumb luck. The whole thing was a setup, a damn trap. I guess it was only a matter of time before we got fucked over but I kinda hoped we'd have more time to prove our innocence. But no. 'Course not.

If God exists then he's laughing his ass off right now.

Doubling back, sidestepping, circling, every trick in the book..._the one I wrote_. Sam tracked and followed my every move just as I taught him, as _my_ father had once taught me.

Coming to a sudden halt I lifted my head and watched the darkness. I could feel Sam behind me, sense his fear and excitement, the youngster trembling slightly from the adrenaline. I understood what he felt, that sweet blend of anticipation and dread.

There was another patrol to the south, still tracking us, trying to scare us into making a wrong move. It wasn't going to work. _He_ wasn't going to win this.

But there was something else in the air, another danger close by. Way too damn close as it happened and something barrelled into me from behind just as several shots rang out, knocking me flying, and I took a long tumble into a deep gully, Sam presumably following on.

Winded and pissed, I got to my feet and rounded on him furiously.

_What the fuck Sam!_

_Sorry Dean. _Sam flashed blue-green eyes apologetically in my direction then hung his head.

Had no idea what the hell was going on with him lately but it had to stop before he got one of us killed.

_We'll talk about this later!_

The two of us sped away into the darkness, but as I increased speed I noticed Sam was dropping back a little. Looking ahead I had my explanation in the form of a dense crop of trees. No way could we get through those side by side.

_Single file it is then._

No answer. And I soon figured out why when I reached the tree line, grateful for decent cover at last, and turned to Sam..._who wasn't there._

_Shit! Where is he?_

Gradually a dark shape came into view but moving slowly, limping and panting, obviously in a good deal of pain. When he got closer I could see Sam's jaw clenched hard, his eyes narrowed, trying to control the agony and the scent of fresh blood was sickly.

He was out in the open, with the enemy not far off, and if they caught him he wouldn't stand a chance. I shifted my weight then headed back, circling him and checking for injury, nudging him over towards the trees. Sam hissed quietly as he limped onwards, and I watched our backs, listening for trouble.

Anger rose inside when I spotted the gunshot wound and Sam faltered, dropping into a crouch, head hanging down in defeat.

_S'ok Sammy._

_Sorry..._

_Just a little further I promise._

He shook his head slightly in acknowledgment and moved on but by the time we got to the cover of trees, he was virtually dragging his belly over the dirt and loose rocks. The coppery tang of his blood grew sharply and I glanced at his wound worriedly. Just above his left hip, the bullet had deflected on impact, bruising the muscle but narrowly missing the pelvic bone. _Thank Christ!_

Sam collapsed just inside our new temporary shelter, and gazed up at me through soft eyes darkened with pain.

_Sorry Dean._

God! Those damn puppy dog eyes will be the death of me someday. Still don't think the kid even knows how potent they are.

_S'ok Sam. But we need to get deeper into the trees so a little longer for me ok buddy? Nearly there Sammy._

Sam's answer was a slow struggle to stand, swaying lightly from blood loss. Gotta admire the kid; he don't give up easy.

And this aint the first time he's taken a bullet for me.

But last time, one of us was human.

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_8 years previously..._

We'd been hunting, on the trail of a real savage killer. And I mean _savage, _like rip off your limbs, claw out your guts savage. Only it wasn't just going after humans. Nah, whatever it was weren't that fussy and just slaughtered anything that got in its way. Like for fun or something; 'cos it just left the mutilated bodies for the wildlife to feed off and moved on. Officials told locals it was a bear.

"Aint no freakin' bear." Dad had growled in disgust.

So, plain bullshit as Dad pointed out. For a start, one of the victims actually _was_ a bear and a fucking _huge_ one at that, so whatever chose to steal its porridge had some serious talent in the strength department, know what I'm sayin'?

The claw and teeth marks found on whatever was left of each victim were too small for a bear and too paw-like for a wendigo. Had to be something in between, something with supernatural strength, and given the cunning way it was stalking its victims the damn thing was highly intelligent.

And..._cue Sammy_.

His suggestion of _werewolf_ caused Dad to scoff loudly and point out the lack of a lunar pattern. It wasn't even close to full moon during the attacks, but that didn't keep my tenacious and stubborn little brother from further speculation.

In that geeky way of his, he pondered aloud about the possibility of different _species_ of werewolf in existence, ones that didn't rely on the lunar month, which lead him on to working through some more theories about what other abilities such a creature could possess.

"There's even a European professor of mythology that questions it, has his own website too," Sam had pointed out excitably, turning the laptop round to prove his point.

I felt pretty bad about it later but at the time Dad and I just laughed at him affectionately, whilst my little brother, still at that awkward and permanently embarrassed stage of teenage -hood, flushed bright red and turned his back on us as I ruffled his hair.

We were to learn the hard way that Sam was right.

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"Sam? Stay between me and your brother and watch the flanks. Dean? Watch the rear. Let's go!" Dad's loud whisper was immediately followed a by a frustrated sigh from my brother.

"Heads up runt!" I nudged him with an elbow just before we set out.

"I'm almost as tall as you, Dean." Sam shot back.

I grinned at him. "_Almost_, being the keyword Sammy."

"It's _Sam _dorkus."

Dad was moving on further ahead; I waited until he was well and truly out of ear shot before taunting my brother again.

"Nice ta meetcha Sam Dorkus; what kinda surname's that anyhow?"

"Dean!" Sam admonished in a manner that was way too adult-like for my comfort. "Would you concentrate? This is serious! One slip and the werewolf..."

"S'not a werewolf Sam. Not lunar remember?"

"Oh _right_! Just 'cos _Dad _said so..."

"Damn straight!"

"Are you ever gonna learn to think for yourself Dean?" Sam turned slightly to glare at me. Fortunately Dad was still some way ahead and couldn't hear us arguing. "Or you just gonna rely on everything _Dad_ says?"

Ok. Kid was pissing me off about now. I should've let it go but sometimes he needed reminding just who the big brother was around here.

"Like it or not, Dad knows a damn sight more about it than you! Now quit ya bitchin' and deal with it!"

Sam went quiet after that. I shrugged to myself.

_Let him sulk. Real mature._

Maybe I'd been too harsh after all, the little guy did most of the research for each hunt and he hadn't been wrong before. Usually Sam and Dad could agree on a hunt– about the only times they actually agreed on anything in fact, which was a damn miracle in itself.

But this time? They'd definitely clashed. I guess even miracles can run out and I sided, much to Sam's distress, with Dad, figuring that with age and experience came wisdom. I mean, wouldn't you? If you had to make a choice that your family's very lives depended on, you'd pick the older ex-marine not the geeky fourteen year old school kid right? _Right?_

Ok, don't answer that.

I stared at my brother's back in the gloom as we advanced on Dad's command.

Sam seemed so discontent with life, _this_ life, and he was at constant loggerheads with Dad whenever it was time to move onto the next hunt. It followed the same pattern every time; hours of yelling, followed by the long car journey spent in awkward silence, the atmosphere tense and unyielding.

I once made the mistake of pointing out how very much alike the two of them were.

Dad had merely snorted "If only" and gone back to watching TV, whereas Sam.... huh. I'm not sure which hurt him more; my casual observation or Dad's response to it. But he didn't talk to either of us for three days after that. And if I'd paid closer attention I'd soon have realised that although things weren't right between Sam and John, it wasn't all _Sam_. There were plenty more digs and throw away hurtful comments directed at my brother but at the time I never really noticed. Things might have gone a whole lot differently if I had.

I'm the first to admit I didn't understand my geeky little brother or where all his anger was coming from, but I sure as hell hated seeing him unhappy.

I knew what he'd been thinking. He was smart, sure, but he couldn't outsmart his big brother. He thought I hadn't spotted them, the way he hid them quickly whenever Dad or I walked in the room.

At first I thought it was porn. I mean, he was a teenager right? At that age my balls were wound tighter than a high tension spring and I was definitely _curious _about things. So why wouldn't Sam?

So, unless colleges and universities were offering some _real_ liberal courses and research methods then it's safe to say I was very wrong. My fourteen year old brother, who not long ago started shaving and had still to figure out what girls were for, was considering his future. And apparently that future lay somewhere amongst the carefully concealed college brochures I'd discovered under his mattress. My little brother, genius and mastermind, lacked imagination when it came to hiding things from his family.

As horrified as I was at the thought of Sam heading out into the world alone, I had to admit I wasn't surprised.

Not at all in fact. In truth I was bursting with pride because I knew how determined he was to prove himself. A part of me had seen this coming, and like it or not I couldn't stop him. Wouldn't have wanted to, because I could never hurt him like that.

I knew how Dad would react, could see the impending fight in my mind's eye, so I resolved to stay silent for all our sakes.

But Sam would need all the help he could get. As hunters we were never anywhere close to rich, and even with a full scholarship it would still be a struggle for him. I had several years to change that, had already started putting some of my own hard won/earned cash aside for my little brother. Already there was a couple thousand dollars from my last job resting in a thick envelope at the bottom of my duffle. During the day I worked as a mechanic at the local small town garage, but at night I hustled, gambled....you don't really wanna know how far I went, or how far I'm still prepared to go for my Sammy. Suffice to say words like 'virtue' and 'innocence' were lost to me some years back, when Dad left us alone in the middle of winter to go on a hunt, with little more than a can of beans and some stale bread for sustenance.

Rest assured I never missed them.

But Sam deserved better.

I was quite literally knocked out of my thoughts in a flash of fur and teeth. Pinned to the ground by the biggest _wolf_ I'd ever seen, I heard my father and brother shouting as the damn thing loomed over me.

We hadn't been prepared; it must have been as silent as a fart in a crowded lift, watching us. _Stalking us. _I wanted to laugh out loud. It should have been the other way round – we were the hunters after all.

"Get of me you sonofabitch!" I ground out as the bastard leaned hard on my chest, crushing all the air out of my lungs. He..._it_ seemed to sneer at me, eyes gleaming with its own arrogance until someone fired. The wolf merely howled long and loud, and its amusement turned to anger.

I could feel my eyes widen. _Oh Shit!_

Its jaws opened, taunting me, and my world shrunk down to just me and the big bad wolf. I struggled hard but the animal's strength was immense. The wolf stilled, watching me, somehow knowing it was safe; there was the glimmer of a keen and eerie intelligence in its eyes that sent a bolt of wonder through me. For a crazy moment there I found myself thinking this was the most beautiful and magnificent wolf I'd ever seen. As wolves go that is.

The spell was broken all too soon as it snapped its head downwards. I tried to roll to the side and it missed my jugular, instead burying its fangs in my shoulder. My responding roar of pain sounded blood curdling even to my ears and the wolf shook its head from side to side as though I weighed no more than a dog's chew toy. Flesh was rendered from bone, muscles and tendons tearing and snapping, warm blood flowing freely and soaking my T-shirt, and I endured it all in a kind of daze, fighting hard against going into shock.

Then suddenly it was gone, and I struggled to keep my eyes open as Sam and Dad advanced on the wolf side by side, maintaining a constant volley of fire.

The wolf was angry but barely injured, and seemed to throw my family a disdainful look which said quite plainly _you're not worth the trouble, _before bounding away gracefully and disappearing into the shadows.

The world was swimming in front of me, Dad and Sam's voices muffled and faint in my ears as blood continued to flow, and my body throbbed in time with each heart beat.

_Sam, get to your brother..._

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_**Author's notes:**_

**So here we go, the start of a new adventure. Now that it's here, I'm **_**incredibly **_**nervous. There's been such a build up to it, and I really hope you guys aren't disappointed.**

**Again, please keep an open mind.**

**Depending on the response, chapter 2 coming up soon.**

**Kind regards,**

**ST xxx **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hunter of the Shadows**

**Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'**

**Chapter 2**

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**The motel room appears empty, until the eye catches sight of a solitary form asleep on the far bed, dark brown shaggy hair spread out across the pillow.**

**The bathroom door is wide open and a tall figure can just be seen inside standing over the throne, whistling softly, stance casual like he hasn't a care in the world. A sound much like that of a stream bubbling over into a lake goes on for some time before dying off into a drip, drip, drip. There's the noise of a zipper being zipped, hands being washed and a "Good God I'm a handsome bastard" uttered softly with pride before the figure emerges from the bathroom, then struts his way across the bedroom to the camera, disappearing out of shot for a few seconds as he negotiates his way round various duffle bags and weapons.**

**There's a loud thud and "_sonofabitch!"_ Dean appears, rubbing his left big toe and hissing in pain.**

**He grimaces and mutters quietly "stubbed my damn toe on the..."**

**Dean blinks slowly as though something's just occurred to him and he appears to be staring hard at something on top of the shot.**

**"Huh. Forgot to turn the camera off." He grins sheepishly. "I'm sure that's a little more of me than you actually wanted to see..."**

**But having his ablutions caught on camera doesn't seem to really bother him all that much.**

**"And they say it's the personality that counts," Dean quips, still grinning. "Guess you guys got more than you bargained for. Now, where were we? Oh yeah..."**

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_**Back in the past...**_

Someone was leaning over me seconds later, and red light flooded my eyes as Sam clicked on his filtered flashlight. His worried face appeared bathed in the eerie glow.

"Dean! You ok man? Say something..."

I winced and flapped a hand at him. "Turn that thing away! Ya tryin' to blind me?" At least that's what I _tried_ to say but judging by the increasing anxiety on Sam's face that ain't what came out.

"Dean?" Rustling and movement. Something soft was pressed to my shoulder and I cried out in pain. "Sorry bro. Gotta stop the bleeding." The little shit pressed down even harder. This time I managed to stifle it down to a groan but my shoulder was excruciating, vaguely realising Sam was wrapping something round my upper torso and shoulder, securing my injured arm across my stomach.

Looking down, I recognised one of Sam's many layered shirts and started struggling again.

_What the hell was he thinking?_

"Dammit Sam!" I managed to force out, voice hoarse and weak. "You'll freeze to death out here!"

"I'll be fine Dean, got two more shirts on underneath." The fake grin evident in his soft and shaky voice did little to comfort me. The kid was scared shitless. "Can you stand? Gotta get you back to the cabin and check the damage. You're gonna need some serious stitch work on that." He spoiled the whole 'I'm unconcerned; it's just a flesh wound' routine with an audible gulp and sniffle. Poor kid was trying so damn hard but he already had a fair idea just how bad it was.

"Where's Dad?" I rasped out after a few minutes of silent stumbling in my brother's grip. Sam was taking most of my weight quite well though it can't have been easy. I still had a couple inches on him, even if he _had _filled out a little in the last few months. Still, he was strong, stubborn and I knew he wouldn't give up on me.

My mind must've been doing some serious wandering, because a considerable amount of time had passed since I asked about our Dad, and Sam still hadn't answered me.

"Sam?" Judging by the way Sam's arms tensed around me, I'd have to say he was pissed about something.

"He's gone to _secure the area_," was bitten out in a short clipped tone, which meant Dad had gone after the wolf on his own. Though at a guess I'd have to say Sam's translation would've been _he's abandoned us for the hunt. Again_.

We both carried on in a loaded silence, trudging slowly through the forest, still on the alert for trouble. Somewhere along the way Sam had retrieved my fallen weapon and I held it under my bad arm. Given my injuries I wouldn't have been much use if the wolf came back for seconds, but the weight of the stock against my body made me feel a little better.

We were slowing down and I soon figured out it was because of me. I could barely hear Sam's words of encouragement above the roaring and pounding in my ears. I was trying to pin point when exactly my vision had developed a black border, slowly thickening until all I could see was a tunnel of red from Sam's flashlight, gradually reducing to a pin prick.

_Dean...Just a little further dude I promise....stay with me..._

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An incessant clinking like metal on glass then...

"Drink some of this; it'll help you get your strength back," a familiar, soft anxious voice announced by my ear. Something warm and smooth was placed against my lips and a cool hand slid beneath my neck, gently raising my head.

"You lost a lot of blood," came that voice again. "But I think you're gonna be ok."

Had to get my head together.

"Sammy," I croaked out, "You alright kiddo?" My throat felt like someone had used an electric sander on it.

Sam made a sound like a snort of disbelief. "I'm fine Dean, now drink!"

_Bossy little shit_ I wanted to say, but did as I was told. It was some kind of protein drink; I'd had it before after an injury resulting in heavy blood loss. It was an old recipe Dad got from Pastor Jim, and it had saved it us several trips to the ER over the years.

There was something wrong. Sam was staring at me strangely and shifting nervously in his seat, and a quick glace round the cabin revealed that Dad was still AWOL.

"He's taken the car and gone into town," demonstrating Sam's creepy mind reading skills. Pity I couldn't read my brother so well. "He's gone to the medical clinic in the nearest town, gonna bring back a doctor to help you." He shook his head. "In the meantime I gotta figure out what attacked you before he gets back."

I glared at him; was he trying to be funny?

"It was a _wolf_ Sam. A damn great wolf! You were there! You _both _were!"

I fully expected a smart-ass reply but Sam just stared down at his feet.

"Sam? How long was I out?" A worrisome feeling took hold of my gut and heavy suspicion kicked in. If I was healing why would Dad go for a doctor? And why was Sam not answering me?

I sat up suddenly. "Dad left for town _before_ I started healing, right?" But Sam still refused to look at me and I reached forward, grabbing his arms and giving him a hard shake. "How long was I out? _How long since the attack Sam?_"

He finally looked me in the eye before answering. "Two hours," he whispered, eyes filling with tears. "When Dad left..._he thought you were dying._"

My breathing picked up, my chest tightened, my grip on Sam's arms was hard enough to leave bruises and _still_ I didn't let go.

"Huh? _No way_!" Looking down at the bandages on my injured shoulder, one hand released Sam and started pulling them back one by one. Strip by strip of blood stained bandage came away and instead of an ugly red wound sealed by stitches, there was a ten inch jagged scar already beginning to fade.

Sam sniffed. "I pulled the stitches out 'bout an hour ago, but after you nearly bled to death we ran out of clean gauze and dressing." He offered quietly, "Had to re-bind it using the same bandage. Sorry."

I just blinked in amazement. My body wasn't healing from a life threatening injury.

It was _healed_.

"Dad doesn't know?"

Sam shook his head. "We could just keep it covered and hope he doesn't check for himself." He shrugged forlornly.

That wasn't going to work and we both knew it.

I noticed Sam's laptop was open, booted up and humming away quietly to itself. When I turned to speak, Sam was staring at me, in part wonder and part fear.

"Dean, you better take a look in the mirror," my brother's voice shook lightly and I was on my feet in an instant, the movement strangely fluid and...graceful? I felt lighter than air yet there was a weird strength behind the scenes, waiting to be tapped. _What the hell's happened to me?_

As I approached the mirror with Sam right behind me, my steps slowed, scared of what I'd see. And that was something else; my sight was sharp, everything in crystal clear focus. And I could hear _everything_, from my brother's pounding heartbeat to a cockroach scratching its ass in the nearby wardrobe. I could smell..._fresh lavender_? Yet the closest wild lavender was two or three hundred yards away out on the dirt track. I knew that because Sam often made his own lavender oil to burn at night. Apparently the stuff's good for the memory and Sam felt a boost to his already _scary-huge_ brain could only be a good thing.

But that wasn't the only scent. Sam was more than nervous. He was scared and confused, the smell of his sweat so strong I could almost taste the salt, mixed with the essential _Sammy_ smell, one I would always associate with a tiny squalling bundle and baby powder.

I finally found the courage to raise my eyes to the mirror, then stumbled back in shock.

My skin was the usual colour, a light tan with a scattering of freckles, but my eyes...

They were still green but there was a strange glow when the light caught them at a certain angle, and the irises were ringed by a dense black making them seem more pronounced, better defined. I turned my head this way and that, still staring into my own eyes.

"Sammy?"

"Dean..."

"This is so.... _cool!_"

"Dean..."

"I mean, the chicks are gonna _love_ this." I was desperately trying to avoid my little brother's pending discussion but the little shit was persistent.

"Dean!"

I hung my head and slowly turned to face him. "Alright Sammy, what you found out?" I gestured to the open laptop, then got a good look at him. The kid was a picture of misery as he reached out and turned the screen around.

"Remember I told you about the possibility that more than one species of werewolf exists?" I nodded and glanced at the screen whilst Sam continued. "Took some digging but it turns out that mythology professor sure knows his stuff...."

But I was barely listening, my mind reeling in shock, which was kinda stupid.

_Superfast healing? Glowing eyes? Super hearing? Nose like a horny hound during the mating season?_

What the hell did I _think_ I'd been bitten by? Superman?

Sam's soft murmur dragged me back from whatever panic front was taking up space in my confused brain.

"...there is a common misconception amongst today's scholars that all werewolves are lunar dependent and rely on the full moon in order to change." Sam's eyes followed the text as he quoted. "Since the late seventeen hundreds Eastern European culture has maintained there are at least three varieties of lunar-dependent and four known varieties of non-lunar werewolf..."

He scrolled down to reveal an eye-witness sketch from over a hundred years ago of a large wolf, long-haired, pointed ears, eyes glowing in the light of a flaming torch. It could have been the biggest German shepherd ever except for the lengthened fangs. He was magnificent, a thing of wild beauty. It was only a drawing and couldn't be considered as evidence of a sighting... if not for the fact it might have been the same damn wolf that bit me earlier that night!

In fact the more I stared at the sketch the more certain I became.

"It can't be... _holy shit_ Sam! It's the same one!" I exclaimed loudly, feeling my knees almost giving way with the shock.

Sam's answer was to nod and scroll down even further to a section marked

The Non-Lunar Werewolf:

If Sam's heart was to pound any harder he was gonna have a cardiac arrest. Barely thinking about it, I pushed him down into the chair in front of the computer and stood behind him, one hand on his shoulder, the other on the back of his neck in a gesture of comfort.

"Dean this is bad..." Poor kid was shaking and I sensed his fear all the more.

I read the section aloud.

'...share many traits with its Lunar-dependent cousins: impervious to injury except by silver or decapitation. Potentially immortal, though never proven.

The non-lunar werewolf, as the name suggests, does not require full moon to change form, but is able to change at will, though change can be initiated by serious injury from silver either in blade or missile forms.

Silver bullets can kill or maim a werewolf if not removed quickly, by paralysis, or gradually finding its way to the heart. However, once removed werewolves have the ability to rejuvenate and heal fast, lending plausibility to the theory of immortality.

Complete with enhanced hearing and sense of smell, it is a mistaken belief in many circles that werewolves only see in black and white. There is little clinical evidence to support this assumption. The Non-Lunar Werewolf has exceptional eyesight, and can see many colours enhanced by an extra set of 'filters' and 'lenses' often observed as a ring of black around the iris and a deep luminous green or sometimes blue sheen to the pupil. Like the lunar dependents, their strength is shocking to behold; the jaw alone can exert some one hundred times the pounds per square inch of pressure of the average wolf. Evidence to the contrary is misleading with little or no..."

I snorted loudly. Like this guy had solid evidence to support _anything_ on his website.

Except... I _was _evidence, right? Standing right here, in this room. I should have died, all that blood and pain...

"Dean...DEAN! You're hurting me!" Sam flinched and squirmed in my grip and his wavering voice finally broke through. I glanced down at my hands in shock.

My knuckles were white and tense, fingers clenched, nails sunk into Sam's shoulder and neck. Sam gave up struggling and slumped in his seat, tears falling silently.

"Sammy I'm so sorry kiddo, I didn't mean to hurt you," I dropped to my knees beside him and cupped his jaw, turning his head to face me. The kid was white as a sheet and shaking like a leaf. "Sam..."

Finally his eyes locked with mine, and my heart broke right then.

"Dean, you have to go." Sorrowful eyes gazed at me. "You know what Dad will do if he finds out what... what you've _become_."

I stared at him in shock. "What? NO! Sammy he'll be fine, he'll understand..."

He shook his head slowly. "He won't, you _know_ that. Please, you have to go. I don't want to watch him kill you..." Sam reached out to me, grasping both my hands in his. "I'd rather kill my_self_." He whispered, leaving the terrible silence of consideration.

I didn't want to believe it, but Sam was right. It wouldn't matter that I was his son, I'd become a monster, a vicious bloodthirsty killer without a conscience. A small part of me hoped Dad would just nod, squeeze my shoulder comfortingly and say _it's all right, we'll figure something out_. But no. He'd take one look, maybe tell me he was sorry, then give me both barrels. Silver to the heart. It would be an instant death but I still didn't want my kid brother to see that.

I'd rather die than hurt an innocent but Sam didn't need to know about it, if or when it happened. First I would hunt that wolf, and take him down with me. No one else was gonna suffer like this at his hands..._paws_. Whatever.

If the prospect hadn't been so dangerous, I'd have taken Sam with me, but only because somehow I didn't really trust Dad to keep him safe. It was a strange feeling that was only just beginning to form.

I nodded, rose and grabbed my duffel, stuffing it with my clothes. Sam was watching me and I turned to meet his gaze. I don't think I'd ever seen him so sad and lonely.

"It'll be ok Sam. I promise." But he wasn't stupid.

"No it won't." Sam sniffed and swiped at his tears. "I'm never gonna see you again."

I couldn't lie to the kid. He deserved better.

"Probably not." I answered softly, unable to keep on looking him in the eye. At the risk of crumbling, I just grabbed him up in a long tight hug. "Stay safe Sammy. Look after Dad for me."

And I left without once looking back. Some months down the line I wished like hell I'd paid closer attention to my instincts.

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_**Author's notes:**_

I've always fancied writing a story like this. I think the idea of Dean as a werewolf (the Kelly Armstrong variety) is just fantastic; it suits him to a Tee.

Many thanks for Darksupernatural who encouraged me to write this nearly a year ago. Sorry it's taken me so long to get the plot sorted. Hope you enjoy it hon!

Kind regards,

ST xxx


	3. Chapter 3

**Hunter of the Shadows**

**Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'**

**Chapter 3**

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**A short cough. The room comes back into focus bringing with it Dean's worried face. He looks tired, worn out, almost a completely different person to the last time he was on camera.**

**"Sammy's pretty sick. I thought he was doing better, but he developed a fever last night. A bad one." He shakes his head in despair. "Like this life don't suck enough..."**

**The look on Dean's face gives the impression he's close to breaking until he smiles suddenly.**

**"Still, coulda been worse huh? Least he's in one piece." But the smile just as quickly darkens to sadness. Running a shaky hand through his spiky hair, Dean fixes sad, bloodshot eyes on the camera lens. "Sorry. I'm just so damn tired, but there's no way I'm gonna sleep just yet. And besides, there's more to tell, so much more you need to know..."**

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_**The Past...**_

It took me three months to track him down by scent alone. His trail led me into some real downtown squalor and back alleys, the lingering smell of urine, sweat, dried vomit and faeces still not strong enough to hide him. I'd know his scent anywhere; he ruined my life, I'd lost my father and I'd never see my kid brother again. Oh yeah, the Big Bad Wolf was gonna pay.

I padded silently through the back streets, ignoring the terrified yowls of stray cats and the frightened snarls of wandering dogs. They wouldn't bother me, knew all too well I could tear them limb from limb without raising a sweat. Gotta admit, that kind of strength scared me shitless at first, not really knowing what I was capable of, but I soon got used to it, learned how to use it.

That's survival for ya.

Changing form had been painful, both physically and mentally. At first it happened spontaneously; it would be days, sometimes weeks, and then suddenly I'd have no choice but to go with it. To my surprise, human thought and instinct still took priority. I was still in control. As I practiced and my confidence grew, I learned to change at will and the process was no longer quite so painful.

I slowly began to understand that I wasn't just a hairy looking human with extra large teeth. No. It was way cooler than that.

The result? One very big, powerful and intelligent dog.

The low growl was unnecessary but, suddenly, he was right in front of me. Yeah, it was the same wolf all right, but if anything, he seemed bigger, more menacing than ever. I quickly realised why and followed suit, my hackles rising as I snarled angrily.

My anger grew when the bastard appeared to be laughing at me. We began to circle each other slowly, teeth bared, lips curled.

And then something happened, something _he_ did that completely threw me.

_So you found me at last...my son. I knew you would survive. Counted on it in fact._

I blinked.

_What the fuck...? How's he doing that?_

The circling stopped and he almost looked disappointed.

_Such language; the result of being raised by humans no doubt..._

His voice was actually a deep pleasant timbre in my head, but that didn't mean I trusted him. The wolf's eyes sparkled and shone and I backed up a little until my tail was brushing against hard concrete. I sat back on my haunches and watched in confusion as he slowly approached. He no longer seemed so threatening, looking almost kindly in fact. The big wolf cocked his head slightly, then that smooth deep voice in my head...

_But you are __my__ son now._

I stared at him stupidly. _Huh?_

He suddenly sprang forward and before I knew what was happening his jaws locked round the back of my neck, his weight pushing me down to a submissive crouch.

_Fuck that! I submit to no one!_

I fought back, tried to turn and bite, jaws snapping, paws scrabbling for freedom, but the bastard was too strong.

_Stop that you idiot child! Do you __want__ them to catch us?_

As I stilled, he used his grip to turn my head slightly.

_See..._

I stared along my muzzle, using it like a gun sight, nose twitching. A cop car was slowly passing us on the road, flashlight cutting a wide beam through the darkness of our alley from the front passenger window. The scent of stale doughnuts and coffee made my mouth water and my stomach churn; wolf and human instincts in direct conflict. Reluctantly, I ducked down and we both waited it out. Once the danger had moved on, the wolf released his hold on me and stepped back, glossy coat catching the dull streetlight from ahead, and it struck me again what a magnificent animal he was. Unlike me, I hadn't been looking after myself, so intent on finding the man –_wolf_- who had destroyed my life.

_Destroyed? You think so? _The wolf tilted his head again. _Your life has only just begun._

He padded forward, eyes shining and I shivered involuntarily, tail drooping, head lowered like a chastised puppy. I couldn't understand the power this guy had over me.

_I sired you, therefore I am your father, but you may call me Tobius.__If you wish to survive in this world, pup, you will listen to my every word and pay attention!_ His voice softened, almost affectionate when he continued. _Not everything is so black and white, now follow me my son. You have much to learn._

Feeling kinda foolish, and not really knowing what else to do, I complied. By choice. No one was forcing me, let me make that clear. Once he told me all he knew, _then_ I would slaughter the bastard.

I ignored the faint chuckling and _we'll see young pup, we'll see _in my head and trailed after Tobius, growling softly.

In the coming months, I grew to respect Tobius, albeit reluctantly at first. There was still the pressing issue of him being a ruthless killer but that was soon solved.

Ya see, turned out Tobius was a hunter, but a hunter of his _own_ kind. He hunted non-lunars that crossed the line or drew too much attention to themselves, as well as the poor bastard lunar-dependents who had no idea what they became by the light of the silvery moon. Naturally, Tobius had quite the heart for the latter; they were innocent but couldn't be controlled, so putting them down was always a hard move for him. He'd explained that the lunar-dependents were the result of an unnatural union between a wolf-demon and a human, and, in spite of the tales of myth and legend, weren't really considered to be true werewolves.

The upshot being any werewolf that _murdered humans_ was fair game for Tobius. And he'd been on the trail of one the night he turned me. It was act of instant anger; we'd got in his way and ruined a hunt four months in the making. Four solid months of tracking and tracing, of near misses and false clues, only for three humans to step in and fuck things up completely. Yeah, his reaction was extreme by human standards, but I understood his frustration, and let's face it. He could have killed me outright, had every opportunity in fact.

Tobius was an excellent and patient mentor, and taught me to hunt like a wolf and to live by wolf lore. I learned to understand myself better, to realise that I _was_ a wolf, no longer fully human and things had to change.

I grew to love running and hunting in perfect darkness, learned to feed properly. He taught me that, just like humans, health conscious werewolves choose only the best cuts of meat but _never_ skimp on the fat. Dietary fat is an important energy source and means of keeping warm for werewolves, regardless of which form we may favour. Like Tobius, I spent equal time in human and wolf form, 'cos I'm a good looking guy and it's a shame to waste it.

Daylight was the time for the human form but by night we were truly free as we hunted the murderers amongst our own kind. Tobius referred to them as 'strays'. He explained that non-lunars kept themselves to themselves, preferring to stay off the human radar, but a stray that turned man-eater out of hunger and desperation, or through pleasure, became a threat to our anonymity and must be destroyed.

It was a lot to take in and I ain't the best student, but I soon had it figured out, and I accepted that, by blood, Tobius was my sire and father. I still wasn't sure I understood it, but I _believed_ it. Or felt it.

One major near-disaster solidified our relationship. A human hunter began tracking us; for one crazy moment there I wondered if it was John, but thankfully it wasn't. It was someone far crazier.

His name was Gordon Walker; John had mentioned him a few times, claimed he was a great hunter but definitely not one that played well with the other puppies. We confronted him, told him to back off, but somehow _he knew_ what we were. Usually, it's something only other werewolves can spot, but he knew all right. Gordon didn't seem to realise just who I was but he sure was curious 'cos he attacked me first. He would have been no match for me had it not been for the weapon he carried, and my sire gave me no time to react.

Tobius had grabbed my arm and thrown me clear just as the silver blade buried itself in his left shoulder, and I can honestly say I have _never_ heard anyone or anything howl like that; sure hope never to again. The left shoulder's a damn dangerous place to take a silver hit, being so near the heart, and Tobius was real sick for days after. Gordon Walker got away, but I knew he'd be back.

As time passed an ache grew inside and I knew what or rather _who_ it was.

I missed my family, the one that raised me, and I desperately wanted to see them if only from a distance. I had to know they were ok, but Tobius had made it clear the humans were no longer my family, no longer a part of me. That was a hellish bitter pill to swallow. We were there to protect humans, not befriend them.

I guess I was a little angry at that point; by turning me Tobius made me his and that bond was virtually unbreakable, but losing Dad? Losing _Sam?_ That made him a selfish, uncaring bastard in my eyes, and we argued about it more than once.

I once asked him _why me?_ He just stared at me and his answer really wasn't helpful. _Because._

Wow, now _that_ was an inspiration that kept me up at night. Gee thanks Pa!

It was times like this I wondered why I hadn't killed him yet.

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Unlike John, Tobius insisted on breaks between hunts. These short vacations usually took place in the next town or two over, but not this time. He loaded us up in our latest rental, a non-descript, puke-brown sedan - which _didn't _make me miss the Impala _at all_ – and drove us clear across to the other side of the country.

Tobius remained silent for most of the journey and I wondered if I'd pissed him off somehow. I studied him cautiously in my peripheral vision. Even in human form, Tobius was handsome in a surprisingly _thin_ kinda way; he looked at least ten years younger than John, but I knew looks were deceptive on werewolves. Tobius originally came from the province of Anjou in France, though he spent most of his life in Northern England before coming here, and even _he_ couldn't remember when he was born. But he mentioned watching the young aristocrats with disdain as they eagerly joined the crusades before Jerusalem was sacked by Saladin.

Now I'm no history buff, that was more Sam's thing, but I knew that had to put him at over eight hundred years old!

Guess that proved the immortality theory huh?

Yeah, I know what you're thinking, but contrary to what my little brother thinks (doesn't matter what Tobius told me, Sam _was_ still my little brother) my school years weren't all spent under the bleachers making out with some cheerleader.

Ok _some_. But not all.

Besides, Sammy once did a school paper on the Knights Templar and asked me to read it through for him. Some of it kinda stuck.

Tobius pulled the car over into the parking lot of a _real_ fancy hotel, handed the keys over to the valet then grinned at me. I must have looked pretty shocked because he started laughing.

_Tell me we aint stayin' here?_

_Why not? I do __own__ the place!_

_Huh?_ There I go bein' all intellectual again. But seriously! Guy keeps doing that, just when I think I got him pegged he throws me for another loop.

"You grab the bags and I'll check us in." He spoke aloud this time, presumably for the benefit of the valet.

"Why didn't you tell me about this place?" I winced at the petulant whine.

He just shrugged at me, looking genuinely bewildered by the question.

"I never thought of it 'til now, didn't think it was important." Tobius shrugged again and got out of the car leaving the door open for the valet.

"Didn't think..." I sat there for a long moment, shaking my head, before dragging myself out and trailing after him. I knew that my Sire wasn't short on cash – I hadn't needed to work or hustle in between hunts since I joined him, except for pleasure, and we never stayed in rat infested shitholes, but compared to some of the hovels _Dad_ could afford this was a damn _palace!_

Crystal chandeliers adorned the lobby casting tiny shards of light on the beautiful ornate staircase directly ahead. Someone in uniform tried to take our bags and Tobius shot me a sharp look when I backed up slightly, hugging our personal belongings protectively.

"Let the fellow take your duffle son." Tobius spoke politely enough but there was an underlying edge to his soft European accent. At first I thought he was annoyed, a silent warning not to embarrass him, but the twinkle in his eyes told me differently. I just grinned back, and let the guy carry my bag. Following Tobius to the lift I had a good look round and couldn't help but stare at the plush surroundings, but it was when we got to our rooms that I was truly stunned.

That's what I said. _Rooms_. Not _room_. As in, _more_ than one.

Tobius had a fucking luxury _suite_ of his own at the top of the furthest wing. Decorated in deep reds and dark blues offset by a white tiled floor that sparkled like quartz in the low intimate lighting, and covered with a few thick rugs that my feet just sank into. There were at least two bedrooms, one double, one twin and both with en suite bathrooms. Both bedrooms were lavishly decorated with high ceilings.

I was given the twin, which caused a sharp pang of loneliness deep inside. Since leaving Sam I'd often shared a twin with Tobius, but tonight my sire would have his own room.

I admired everything from the complementary bar to the cathedral sized bathrooms, stared in awe at the fifty inch plasma screen. At that time plasma screens were just starting to emerge and only the very rich could afford them.

Tobius chuckled lightly and swatted me over the head.

"Don't get used to it pup. We're only here for a few nights, and besides, such a life would soften you."

I stared at him.

"You could live like this all the time..."

He merely shrugged.

"Once in a while doesn't hurt and to rest somewhere a little more comfortable is ample reward for our work. Don't you think?"

I didn't know exactly _what_ to think, especially with a little brother out there, somewhere in the world living off cheap and shitty fast food.

"Now!" Tobius pointed at the en suite. "Hit the shower." He wrinkled his nose in mild disgust "You stink young pup!"

The guy had a point. With a glare that only made my sire laugh at me, I stomped into the bathroom to get cleaned up.

When we later headed on down to the restaurant, I was feeling on top of the world – fresh jeans, clean dress shirt and the concierge had virtually _spit'n'polished_ my biker boots. Tobius may have cleaned up my act a little, but it was obviously an annoyance to him that I hadn't graduated from scruffy faded jeans to dress slacks for the evening.

The ladies behind the plush bar didn't seem to mind though and pretty soon I was overwhelmed with offers to serve as our _personal_ bar tenders. Tobius just smiled knowingly, used to all the attention, yet his manner was that of a gentleman when dealing with his staff. That was something else I liked about the guy; in spite of his inherent arrogance he treated everyone he met with respect unless they proved they otherwise deserved it, and he always rewarded hard work and good effort. But that wasn't the reason the ladies were practically fawning over him.

Yeah, there's something about werewolves. Most humans don't believe we exist but they're often drawn to us anyhow, without even realising it.

I could bullshit you into oblivion and claim some mystical crap, but I've told you so much already it wouldn't be fair to tease you about this. Put it this way, ever wondered why you're drawn to certain people, complete strangers you've only just met for the first time, yet feel instantly aware of in a very _primal_ way?

Well, you better sit down for this one folks, 'cos the chances are you just met a werewolf.

Surprised? There are more of us out there than you'd think, and some of us _are_ dangerous. Like I said before, a man-eater or stray wouldn't think twice about gutting you like a pig, and lunar-dependent has no choice about it.

And the password is? Pheromones.

We each give off our own individual set of pheromones and each species of werewolf has its own unique scent. Humans can't _smell_ it in the same way we can but they pick up _something_, and it either turns them on or scares 'em.

We rarely use aftershave unless we need to cover our tracks; we find it easy enough to get what we want or need, but it also helps that our species of werewolf in human form are naturally extremely charming and attractive.

So when Tobius sired me, he pretty much did the damn impossible: improved on perfection. Hey! Don't look at me in that tone of voice huh? I'm just telling it how it is!

Ain't my fault I'm damn gorgeous.

That evening, with the waitresses smiling and nodding as they poured wine and water, Tobius had introduced me to the concept of steak tartare, which ain't just rare it's downright _raw_. Good quality minced steak with spices and brown sugar. At first, I was sceptical but the smell... _oh boy!_

We ate in a companionable silence, ignoring the vegetables and French fries but savouring our double order of steak. Tobius smiled at me affectionately when my stomach growled even after two large steaks, and immediately ordered another.

Another big change. A werewolf's metabolic rate is damn high and requires constant attention; Tobius soon had me settled into a routine of ten full meals a day, and that didn't include any fresh kills made at night in wolf form. We may be immortal, but we can still get sick if not eating properly and that puts us at risk.

Oh, and another thing to note; werewolves don't require much sleep if eating properly, unless of course wounded. Usually, we do most of our resting during the mini-vacations; that's often enough to see us through the month.

Tobius passed on dessert but ordered me a slice of chocolate fudge cake with French vanilla ice cream and hot fudge sauce. It was the best I'd ever tasted and within a matter of a few minutes I was pretty much licking the bowl clean.

"Dean," a soft firm voice made me look up into an amused face. "Do at least _try_ to remember where you are." Tobius drawled, mouth twitching.

I self-consciously placed the crystal dessert bowl back on the table but couldn't help smirking at some of the shocked faces on the other guests.

Tobius tapped my arm gently.

"Come on let's go. We have somewhere very special to be tonight."

I followed him to the car, occasionally glancing over in bewilderment. I'm sure he knew I was dying to ask but said nothing, just left me to stew.

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An hour or so into the journey and the car slowed, eventually pulling into the parking lot of a motel. It was a run down, seedy joint that a plague rat wouldn't have been seen dead in... and it was at this point I tried to remember when these places started bothering me. John hadn't cared much, so long as we had a roof over our heads, but then I guess beggars can't be choosers.

"What are we doing here?" I glanced around. Perhaps we were going to meet some fellow hunters after months of it just being me and my sire.

Tobius smiled sadly and pointed to the block of rooms furthest away. I felt my eyes widen as I took in the familiar black car, but it was the equally familiar figure standing nearby, dumping a bag of trash in the garbage bin, that really caught my attention.

"Sammy?" I whispered, almost afraid he would vanish into thin air if I so much as moved.

"I've been tracking them for some time." Tobius offered quietly. "Keeping an eye on them both for you, but, well...I couldn't leave it alone when I realised what was happening to him. I'm only sorry it took me so long to figure it out." I felt his intense eyes on me as I stared out the window. "I've managed to distract John for approximately forty five minutes, so go on. Go get your Sammy."

I was barely paying attention and if I had I might have moved sooner. Tobius was bringing me here just for a visit, right? But he was still looking at me strangely.

Stepping out of the rental I could feel my hands shaking with nerves and stuffed them into my jacket pockets.

Sam had grown taller since I last saw him over sixth months ago, his hair longer and a worrying hunch to his shoulders that I didn't recall ever seeing on him before. As I moved closer, I also noticed how thin and frail he'd become, baby fat completely gone replaced with lank, poorly defined muscles.

"Hey kiddo." My call stayed soft, trying not to scare him. "Long time no see."

Sam's head snapped up and both of us received a shock. His eyes widened in instant recognition and suddenly I had a trembling Sammy in my arms. My shock was for a very different, darker reason. The kid's face was a mess of cuts and bruises, accompanied by a broken nose and a long scar stretching from the right eyebrow down to his chin.

"I can't believe you're here. Thought I'd never see you again," he sobbed over and over, and I realised Sam was broken in more ways than one.

Someone had broken him.

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_**Author's notes:**_

Our poor Sam has obviously been hurt and Dean's about to find out the why and who...Be prepared for fireworks in more ways than one boys and girls!

Kind regards,

ST xxx


	4. Chapter 4

**Hunter of the Shadows**

**Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'**

**Chapter 4**

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**Please refer back to the warnings in chapter one. I've no wish to upset or offend anyone.**

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**Dean stares sadly into the camera.**

**"He's a lot better today. He had some sleep. Think may be its time to move on."**

**A brief glimpse of that boyish smile.**

**"And yeah, Sam knows about..." he points between him and the camera, and delivers a wry wink "...us. Woke up last night and caught me in the act. But don't worry. He ain't the jealous type."**

**Dean sniffs, good humour fading once again.**

**He looks truly worried now, but also a little melancholy.**

**Another voice speaks up, and it's comforting, solid, though it's still full of fear, anxiety and _exhaustion... _but it's the _love_ and _trust_ that really presses the right buttons.**

**"We'll be fine Dean... now just get on with the story... I wanna hear the rest."**

**Dean stills, realising Sam's been awake and heard everything, then snorts a little and wipes his nose on a sleeve.**

**"Yeah, Sammy's right...I should go on."**

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_**In the past...**_

After an eternity I reluctantly pulled back from the embrace but kept him in my grasp. Staring at him, my thumb gently wiping away an errant tear, I realised I wasn't looking forward to asking.

"Sammy who did this to you?" I demanded softly. No way was this because of a hunt; some of the cuts were fresh and others were barely healed scars. Whatever, _who_ever it was had been continuous and part of me already knew, didn't need the confirmation.

Sam dropped his gaze and shifted nervously from foot to foot, at the same time fiddling with a frayed thread on his elderly looking hoodie, sniffed a few times and even opened his mouth once or twice.

"Sam?" My voice grew harder as my suspicions took on a firm outline. "Tell me who did this!"

Sam flinched and gulped.

"Y-you have to understand...I had to _tell_ him...he would've hunted you..."

I shook my head.

"What? Dude you're not making any sense."

_Oh yes he is, and you know it._ Came Tobius' voice in my head.

Glancing round to make sure my sire was the only one watching us, I grabbed Sam's arm and dragged him along the sidewalk, then hid us both in the alley in back of the motel block. Gently pushing him down onto a trashcan, I sat on one opposite making sure to keep in physical contact at all times.

Fixing him with a steady gaze "Tell me."

And after a few false starts, he did. Sam filled me in on everything that happened since my disappearance six months ago. Only I hadn't exactly _disappeared_ in John's eyes, as Sam went on to explain.

He thought I was dead.

After I left, Sam had thought long and hard about what to do next, and came up with a plan. And though I hated it I also had to admit he was right.

"I even found a deer carcass out in the woods," Sam smiled grimly, eyes filled with torment. "I built a pyre... threw in some dry timber and dead leaves... you couldn't tell the difference after I used the salt and gasoline." He shrugged sadly. "So long as no one looked too closely. Anyhow, when Dad came home I had to tell him how you'd healed so quickly, then I told him that I shot you with silver at your request. Said you couldn't bear to live like that and begged me to kill you. I don't think he believed me at first, didn't think you'd ever ask that of me..."

_He's right. I wouldn't._

"...but I showed him the body and... he just... _broke_. Never saw him cry like that before. Scared me. Then he went back to the cabin and sent the doctor away... don't know what excuse he gave him. Didn't much care."

I stood abruptly and Sam watched me pace up and down.

Anger. Pure anger, hotter than molten steel raged through my veins.

"Dean..."

I barely realised Sam had spoken until he planted his tall frame in front of me.

"So this is what he does? You did the 'right thing', the very same thing _he_ would've done... _and he beats the shit outta you? Godammit!_"

"No! He wasn't mad at me for that." Sam grabbed my arm before I could resume pacing. "He blamed me for you getting turned in the first place. Said if I'd been paying attention it wouldn't have happened." He dropped my arm and turned away in shame. "And he's right..."

I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't. Dad had a violent streak sure; you don't train as a marine, then later, as a hunter without it. But he'd never used it on one of us before. And this was six months ago?

No. Longer than that. It only became _physical_ six months ago, when I wasn't around to stop it.

Another bout of pacing didn't calm my temper and I suddenly whirled round and grasped Sam's upper arms.

"How often Sammy? How often does he do this to you?" To my shame, I confess to shaking him a little in desperation and anger when he didn't answer right away. "Tell me!"

Sam made a small noise, a cross between a whimper and a moan, as tears sprang to his eyes, and he flinched. Badly. Staring at his arms I quickly released my grip and yanked up the sleeves of his hoodie.

"Oh... _Christ_!"

Not only were his arms covered in deep bruises but the bones were misshapen, as though broken and not set back properly, just left to heal disjointed. Unable to let go or stop myself, but dreading what I might find, I ran my hands gently over his hunched shoulders feeling for lumps and bumps, the evidence of further breaks.

And there it was, at least one. His left shoulder; an old break that still hurt him nonetheless. Now I knew what I was looking for I realised he wasn't hunched, but one shoulder hung slightly lower than the other. Stepping back, casting a fearful gaze over the rest of Sam's body brought no further reassurances, and I could see how he stood awkwardly, one foot turned inward a little. The poor kid was lame.

It took a while before realising that Sam was talking, his voice was so quiet.

"...it wasn't so bad at first. He was so angry, yelling, throwing things; by that point he was sinking two bottles of Jose Gold a day." Sam sat back down with a dejected sigh. "I was still hunting with him up 'til about four months ago, but I screwed up on a job and Dad got hurt, hit his head pretty bad. Nothing major, though, not even a concussion. We'd only just moved to the area and we were renting a two story house..." Sam glanced up at me and could see I was wondering at the significance of that last statement. He bit his trembling lip before finishing. "Dad threw me down the stairs that night."

"_Bastard!_" I spat viciously, fists clenching, jaw working and I could _feel_ the warning tingles in my fingers. My body was _itching_ to change. Something must have shown on my face, or maybe my eyes, because Sam started looking real scared, but continued in a small voice.

"After that it became a regular feature and I had to stop hunting." He shrugged almost casually, as though it didn't matter.

_Of course it damn well does! A regular feature? What? Some fathers play baseball with their sons, but John prefers using his teenage boy as the ball? Fuck..._

"...too many broken bones and Dad refused to take me to the ER." Sam was watching me carefully, as though worried I was going to lose it. He wasn't wrong. "I had to look after my own injuries; it's kinda hard to splint a broken arm one –handed." Another shrug. I was beginning to _hate_ those things; so self-condemning, as though someone had told him it was ok, that John had every right to treat him like a punching bag. "I did the research, Dad would go on the hunt, locking me up for the night." The kid licked his lips morosely. "I guess, one of these days, he'll either throw away the key or not bother coming back. No more than I deserve..."

Though I wanted to right then, shouting wasn't going to help him and we were running out of time.

"Wasn't your fault Sammy," I whispered, reaching out and rubbing his poor broken shoulder. "And Dad had no right to blame you for what happened that night."

We just stared at each other in silence. This wasn't going the way I'd expected. _This_ wasn't the proud and defiant little brother I'd left behind six months ago. The emotional abuse I'd been virtually oblivious to was bad enough, and he'd endured it somehow; but _this..._

Stepping forward, I cradled Sam's too thin face in my hands and rested my forehead against his.

"Sammy..." I bit back a sob and took a deep breath. "I'm not leaving you here with him. You're coming with me kiddo."

"Like _hell_ he is!" A loud familiar voice bellowed out. Six months ago, I would've been happy to hear it, but now it grated on my eardrums, shredded my nerves and I swung round, snarling, growling, already unbuttoning my shirt.

Standing protectively in front of my brother, I felt the tingling spread to my jaw and the end of my nose, telling me that change was inevitable. Shrugging out of my leather jacket, I wrapped it around Sam's trembling shoulders. "Look after this for me Sammy."

"Dean..." and Sam gasped as his eyes locked with mine. My face was already starting to morph; muscles pulsing, bones rearranging themselves, ears sliding up my head.

"It'll be ok Sam, just _trust __**me**_." Even my voice was changing mid sentence, deeper, hoarse, almost a growl as the vocal chords joined in the fun. I slowly turned back to face Da... _John_, and began removing my shirt, followed by the rest of my clothes until I was completely naked. John's jaw dropped as he gaped at me and I almost laughed.

My first ever change had come as a shock. It was sudden, painful, and more importantly ruined my favourite band shirt. I'd learned since then, getting naked was the only way to save my wardrobe, and in any case, a werewolf has nothing to be ashamed of _in all departments._

John glared at me then turned his shocked and ferocious gaze on Sam. "You told me he was taken care of!" He cocked his high powered rifle, the very same one he'd used the night I was turned, and I sniffed the air, nose twitching furiously. Silver bullets, high calibre. I could smell the bitter tang already and fear began to build inside me.

Sam came to stand beside me, still wearing my leather jacket, and I growled long and deep, shifting my weight, preparing to strike. I had no compunctions about taking him down; after what he did to Sam, John was no longer my father or even human in my eyes.

"I had no choice Dad." Sam's voice was soft yet firm and brave all at once, and up until then I never felt so proud of him. "He's my brother. Doesn't matter what else he is." The kid raised his head a little more, meeting the gaze of his abuser. "He's still my brother."

"He's a _monster_ Sam!" John roared back and I sure didn't like that look on his face. "He's _not_ your brother anymore, just look at him! He's a brutal vicious murderer! _And you had a hand in creating him you little bastard!_"

I didn't need a mirror to know that my eyes were glowing, nose elongating, teeth sharpened and ears lengthened. Believe it or not, it's a pretty cool look.

And I wasn't just gonna stand there and take this shit from the likes of _him_.

"I've never killed anything or anyone that didn't deserve it." I growled back, voice now so deep and rough that John took a step back and tightened his grip on the rifle. I followed, stalking him, head lowered and eyes fixed on the face of the guy I'd once called _Dad_. Not anymore. Not after what he'd done to Sam.

"You hypocritical _sonofabitch_!" I spat at him. "How could you do that to your own son? He _trusted_ you!"

I could feel Sam's growing anxiety with the confrontation as he kept pace with me. Reaching back, I grasped his arms and gently pulled him forward, displaying the bruises, cuts, fractures and breaks. John at least had the grace to look ashamed.

"You didn't even take him to get properly fixed up when you broke his leg, arm, shoulder...anything else _John?_ Didn't fracture his skull by any chance? _Or were you just working up to that?_" I bared my teeth at him in a snarl, "and you have the nerve to call _me _a monster?"

John seemed to rally his anger once again.

"That's none of your godammed business." His gaze shifted to my little brother. "The kid needed discipline and I'm it! This is nothing to do with you!" He aimed the rifle right at my heart, finger on the trigger.

"_How __**dare**__ you point that thing at __**my**__ son!_"

I blinked. _Huh?_

Tobius stepped between John and me, clothes already removed, skin glowing in the faint light from the motel rooms. His body was on the cusp of change and I smelled his fury.

John scowled. "You... you murdering _sonofabitch_! You _killed _him!" He pointed at me in disgust.

Tobius sneered in response and began prowling up and down in front of him.

"And then you systematically set about slowly killing your youngest." He shook his head, almost in pity, eyes never leaving his preys'. "I inadvertently gave Dean a chance at a better life but maybe I should have taken Sam from you too. People like you don't deserve the gift of children."

And Tobius changed smoothly right in front of us all, the Big Bad Wolf pacing slowly, eyeing John with ill-disguised hate, just waiting for the detonator, which was...

...John's reply. "Fuck you!"

Tobius was on him in a flash of black and tan fur, easily knocking him to the ground, the rifle skittering away and I heard Sam gasp in shock.

The kid moved forward but I stopped him with a hand against his chest.

"Sammy don't. Let Tobius handle it."

"But he'll kill 'im!" Sam's voice wavered in alarm.

"No he won't," _though it's no more than the bastard deserves_ "We don't kill humans Sammy. We protect them from our own kind. That's what I've been trying to tell you..."

"He almost killed you once!" Sam had me there, damn kid might be physically disabled but there sure was nothing wrong with his brain. I opened my mouth to reply but a loud yelp caught my attention, followed by a crash as Tobius was thrown against a pile of empty garbage cans.

_What?_ I knew John's strength was awesome when riled, but seriously, up against a werewolf? _You're kiddin' me!_

Tobius was soon on his paws again, shaking his thick black mane and growling angrily. Pausing, he slanted me a quick embarrassed glance:

_He got lucky!_

I snorted with laughter, but John had reclaimed his rifle, raising it. I stopped thinking and acted instead. As soon as I moved, the rifle turned my way, I saw his trigger finger twitch and then I was on the ground staring up. Someone had pushed me out of the line of fire.

The muzzle flash and loud retort that followed nanoseconds later barely registered with me, because Sam was staggering backwards, clutching at his chest and gasping, eyes wide with shock.

"Sammy!"

His back hit the alley wall and he slid down, legs unfolding in front of him; a large stain blossomed across his hoodie and he looked down at himself in disbelief. Taking in the sight of his own blood, Sam raised his head to stare at John, the guy he'd known all his young life and trusted, the guy who'd just _shot_ him. John slowly lowered the rifle with shaking hands and for the first time since our impromptu reunion began, I saw genuine remorse in his eyes.

Falling to my knees immediately, I pulled the kid into my arms and brushed the thick hair out of his eyes.

"Sammy hold on, it's gonna be ok."

Sam looked completely dazed but the tremors soon began, signalling his rapid slide into shock. I pulled him closer, pressing down on the wound and trying so damn hard not to cry.

The kid gazed up at me, eyes wide, mouth gaping open. "Dean?" His voice was little more than a whisper and he squinted a little, doing his best to stay awake.

"Sam... I..." John shuffled forward but I warned him off with a snarl.

"Don't even think it!" I shifted so John couldn't see him. "You ever come near him again... you so much as _look_ at him and I'll kill you!"

But in shielding Sam, I'd left myself wide open to attack. John's sorrow turned quickly back into anger and he re-cocked the rifle with surprising speed, taking aim once again...

Another blur of fur and claws and Tobius was standing over John's body, blood dripping from his muzzle. Still gasping and shuddering, John was clearly dying but then I guess it's a little hard to live when your heart and throat's been torn out. It was a standard werewolf kill tactic; Tobius made sure John couldn't come after us. Human John was lethal enough but a werewolf version was just too scary to think about.

I wasn't going to waste any more time on him and pulled back from Sam a little to take a look at the damage. The kid was fighting hard, holding on as I asked him, but it was bad. Mortal.

The large calibre round had ripped him open unmercifully, blood pouring from the wound in spite of my best efforts.

Sam was still staring up at me, dark eyes desperate, face too pale. He was trying to speak but no sound passed his lips. The poor kid, my very human baby brother, was dying.

"Ssshhh, Sammy, just stay still. Don't try to talk." But my voice was breaking right along with my heart and Sam could see the truth on my face.

My body was still trying to change but I fought it with everything I had just to spend those last few precious minutes with Sammy.

"Dean..." I heard Tobius speak softly behind me. "I'm so sorry it came to this." Clearly he'd changed back because a large hand came to rest on my shoulder, squeezing gently.

Keeping my eyes on Sam I merely nodded.

"Love you, Sammy, love you so damn much." Sam's eyelids drooped a little and my gut clenched at the small gurgling noise in his throat. "It's ok to rest kiddo. I won't leave you again, I promise. You're safe now. Don't be scared..." I rocked him gently, just like when he was a baby, comforting him in his last moments.

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_**Author's notes:**_

**I suppose I should have given a 'tissue' alert but I didn't want to give the game away too much.**

**See you soon folks.**

**Kind regards,**

**ST xxx **


	5. Chapter 5

**Hunter of the Shadows**

**Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'**

**Chapter 5**

_**Author's notes:** I'm feeling both nervous and proud of this chapter all at the same time, mainly because I'm not sure how you guys are going to react to this; it does explain the story summary if that's any help. Please remember to check the warnings in chapter one._

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**"Like I said. Last time one of us was human. Sorry kid." Dean's not looking into the camera now, more staring into some kind of darkness only one person can bring him back from.**

**And he does, with just two words.**

**"I'm not." Sam smiles and shakes his head weakly.**

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_**The past...**_

His heart was slowing down; I could feel it... _hear_ it. It reminded me of the wounds inflicted on me by Tobius, the painful throbbing heart beat... blood pulsing, pumping, escaping...

I stared down at my brother.

_Maybe..._

I was terrified it might not work, just a false hope rising. He was hit with a silver bullet...

It _had_ to work! I couldn't allow myself the slightest doubt.

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Tobius glared at me.

"You can't be serious!"

I glared right back without a flinch.

"Oh I'm serious alright. Now help me remove the damn bullet before it's too late!"

Father shook his head, already fully dressed, and crouched down beside Sam, gently running his hand through the kid's soft hair.

"I know what you're trying to do Dean; you're desperate and I understand that," sorrowful eyes pinned me in place. "But Sam was already weak and injured before this, coupled with being shot with silver, the chances are he won't make it."

Tobius was only being honest for my sake, I knew that, but I still felt anger boiling away inside.

"You'll only prolong his suffering. Could you live with that?"

I levelled him with my fiercest stare.

"If it gives him a chance then you _betcha_ I can live with it!" I hissed back. "Even if he never forgives me, _I'll live with it!_"

Tobius opened his mouth to reply.... must've seen the look on my face and changed his mind.

I laid Sam down and pulled the jacket tighter around his shivering frame.

"Sammy, close your eyes, just for a little while," I whispered into his ear and smiled when he obeyed. Even after all he'd just seen, he still trusted me.

Tobius gave in and nodded.

"Hold him still." Sliding a blade free from his discarded ankle holster, he reached forward and quickly sliced at the bullet wound, gently probing the damaged flesh. Sam gasped, lids flying wide open, his body bucking violently, and I struggled to keep him still with one hand firmly across his eyes. He didn't need to see this.

The blade wasn't sterilised but there was no time and it didn't matter for our purposes. Either Sam would live or die; an infection wouldn't change the outcome at this stage.

Tobius dug around some more, blood still pumping and spilling over his hands, drenching Sam's clothes. Father's top lip curled at the scent of fresh blood, an involuntary reaction, the inner wolf howling with hunger. I felt it too, regardless of who the blood belonged to.

The bullet came free with a gut churning sucking noise, and Sam fell limp and exhausted. Time for the next stage.

It didn't take too much concentration as my body was on a tight rope; one tiny push and _over we go!_

Mere seconds later, I was shaking myself from head to tail. Unlike Tobius, my coat is pitch black all over, long and well groomed with pride, and I saw Sam's eyes widen on seeing me like this. Somehow, I didn't think he was admiring me; poor kid was scared shitless, but let me tell ya, even in wolf form I can make heads turn.

I bent my head and carefully sniffed at my brother's wound, now made all the worse for the field surgery, and gently licked away at the blood.

This was it.

Time to find out.

_Good luck, my son._

One swift glance at Tobius and I bit deeply into the flesh and muscle of Sam's upper arm and shoulder, his blood flooding my mouth with its sweet taste. As tempting as it was, I blocked it out, concentrating on Sam and Sam only. I gently applied more pressure when he cried out and struggled weakly. One soft warning growl and he stilled, though it took some effort on his part; poor kid was no doubt in a world of pain.

It had to be enough. No more.

Sam whimpered softly when my jaw finally, slowly, released him, and I extended my muzzle to lick away the salty tears from his face. He was staring at me in fear, completely confused, probably wondering what he'd done wrong. After all, his big brother had turned into a wolf and bitten his arm clean down to the bone.

_Sammy..._

His eyes widened in amazement and tilted his head to one side, breathing still laboured from the chest wound.

"Dean, time to go." Tobius laid a gentle hand on Sam's scalp when he just blinked up at us in bewilderment, his body still in deep shock. A familiar set of keys were held up in front of me and Tobius flashed a quick grin. "Get him to the Impala. No sense leaving it behind for someone to steal." He glanced back at the carnage in the alley. "I'll take care of this mess."

He was already turning away as I began the change back to human form. Sam was watching me with dazed, unfocussed eyes, face still badly pale, when I reached for my clothes and started yanking on my jeans.

Finally fully dressed, I crouched and scooped Sam up in my arms.

One of the things I remember most about that night was just how light he was, as a feather in fact. The kid had been abused, neglected and starved half to death; I didn't dare look round at John's remains, scared I'd lose it completely. But I was determined Sam would get his strength back, to force feed him if necessary but I hoped it wouldn't come to that.

You're probably sitting there thinking _wow, he really was so sure this was gonna work_. Damn straight I was. Sam was still alive after all. Chest wound that deep, blood loss that serious? He shoulda _died_ boys and girls!

Face it. I'm a goddamn genius!

Keeping him calm, whispering reassurances, I carried the kid to the Impala and climbed into the rear seat, still holding him close.

Sam kept staring up at me in bewilderment.

"De..." he tried to talk but he was too weak and my name came out a choked half-word of pain. There were hundreds of questions swimming in his eyes and, looking closely, I could already see the black rim forming around his irises.

"Ssshhh. We'll talk later kiddo, when ya feelin' better." And he would. His heartbeat and breathing were gradually stabilising and the bleeding had stopped. I couldn't keep the smile off my face. "It's gonna be ok, Sammy. It really is."

Tears filled his tired eyes and his head rolled to the side as he lost consciousness.

Tobius slid into the driver's seat, started the engine, barking out orders as he backed the car up onto the road.

"When we get to the hotel, I'll leave you at the tradesmen's entrance. Get him up the fire escape and out of sight quick as you can. That amount of blood won't surprise my staff too much but the guests are a different matter." He pressed his foot to the floor and my heart sang along with the engine. I'd really missed the old girl...

"...keep him calm, warm and rested, stay quiet and lock all windows, don't answer the door until I can get back to you both."

He never told me what he did with John's body.

And I never asked.

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The car pulled in smoothly, that beautiful rumble echoing back off the walls and roof of the hotel's loading bay. I didn't have much time to reflect, because Tobius was suddenly opening the rear passenger door and taking hold of Sam so I could climb out. The loss of Sam's warmth sent a shocking wave of anger and protectiveness rolling through me, unlike any I'd ever felt before. I was stunned and pining all at once, until Tobius gave him back to me, and with a growl I huddled Sam closer than ever to my chest.

_Mine._

That's what it was telling me. A persistent _Mine!__He is mine!_ thrumming through my head and body like a truth not even God could deny.

But what Tobius said next shocked the hell out of me and made me realise just what I'd done, how I'd changed things.

"Take care of my grandson." With a wry grin and a wink, Tobius was back in the Impala and driving off, leaving me cradling my...

_Oh God!_

But the stunning realisation wasn't nearly as scary as it should have been.

_Sammy._

According to werewolf lore I was now Sam's father.

I wasn't too sure how Sam would react to the news, but as I stared down at the young werewolf sleeping in my arms, I felt something bust wide open in my chest.

_Love._

Love for my _son._

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Muffled voices coming from the loading bay broke me out of some pretty bizarre thoughts and I silently leapt up the fire escape, clutching Sam to my chest and protecting his head from the low hung wrought iron bars.

But I couldn't stop smiling, every now and then glancing down at my boy..._my boy_...just to make sure he was breathing ok.

The rear balcony door was not only unlocked but ajar. Either Tobius had planned it this way right from the start, or he'd phoned ahead and had someone prepare for the new addition to our family.

I took Sam straight to my room only to find the furthest bed from the door had been turned down waiting for him. Gently laying the kid down and unwrapping him from my jacket, I began checking his wound.

The bite on his shoulder and arm had already sealed itself and the forming scar would quickly fade; a definite sign my plan was working.

The bullet wound still had a way to go, and Sammy would likely need a lot of rest. Gently removing his clothes, I soon had him stripped down to his boxers, and tried hard not to stare at the further evidence of abuse and neglect. Sam was stick thin, ribs jutting out sharply, and the deep dark bruises covering most of his body terrified me.

We should have come for him sooner, but thank God we got there before it was too late because Sammy wouldn't have survived much longer.

He needed cleaning up; there was blood everywhere on his upper body, smeared up his neck, over his chin. It meant leaving him for a few seconds to go grab a wash cloth, but every instinct screamed at me to stay, and I couldn't get back from the bathroom fast enough.

"Hey!" I called to him softly, gently tapping his cheek. "Sam? You with me?"

Sam frowned and turned his head slightly towards me. His eyes fluttered open as he let out a soft tired sigh, but the quiet moment didn't last long.

"_Dean_..." The kid groaned in pain. "_Hurts, wh...whas wrong with me?_" he slurred out breathlessly.

"Shhh, take it easy..." but I was scared something was very wrong. Sam was in too much pain.

Tobius was nearby, I could smell him. Then his hand was on my shoulder, trying to pull me back, and I refused to leave.

"No! He needs me!"

"Dean," Tobius whispered sharply. "If you panic now we'll lose him." He pushed at me gently, "I can help Sam, now GO!"

So I waited by the bedroom door, sometimes pacing, sometimes slid down against the wall. Drumming my fingers or tapping my feet, frustration and worry gnawed away at me. I now understood how a new father felt awaiting news of his child.

I'd always loved Sam more than life itself, always taken care of him when he was sick or injured, made sure I was there when Da..._John_ was absent. Hell, I even went to his parent nights, the school play, picked him up from chess club. It was me that consoled him whenever it was time to move on.

_Then _Sam had been my geeky little brother.

But this was different. He was my _son_ now.

Yeah, Tobius was right. I _was_ panicking.

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Sam suddenly let out a heart-rending scream of pain that had me racing back to his bedside. A small transparent medical mask was now fixed over his mouth and nose, but that wasn't what stunned me.

Sam was shaking violently from head to foot and something scary was happening to his body.

"What the...?" _No, please God no!_ "He can't change right now, not like this! He won't survive it!"

"He's not changing Dean," Tobius announced quietly as Sam's screams died down a little. He smiled faintly. "Take a closer look."

So when I did...

_Holy shit!_

Sam's muscles were rippling under his skin, ribs bowing outwards. Pulling the covers back revealed his lame leg twisting in on itself, bone grating on bone, and a loud snap startled me. Sam screamed again, louder this time, and I watched wide-eyed as the bone twisted again... and _reknitted!_

He was healing. All the damage John had inflicted on him was slowly reversing and fading. It was happening all over his body; his arms, the old break in his shoulder, _all_ were realigning, righting themselves.

But Sam writhed in pain, sobbing, hands clawing at the bed sheets as his body flipped over. Recent bruises turned yellow and faded altogether, even the deep scar on his face had disappeared and his once broken nose was no longer slightly crooked.

"Easy boy, the sedatives will kick in soon enough." Tobius tenderly wiped the sheen of perspiration from Sam's forehead just as the kid's eyes fluttered shut and he passed out. Adjusting the straps on the oxygen mask, Tobius glanced over at me.

"We'll let him keep this on for now. He'll need it until all his injuries have healed."

Understanding dawned.

The mask was carefully delivering a gaseous infusion of pain meds and sedatives.

I was mildly surprised. Tobius rarely allowed the use of human drugs, especially pain killers. They're no good for werewolves, affecting our metabolism and screwing with our minds. We need to build up and maintain our own natural immunity to pain in order to cope with the regular changes.

I know what you're thinking. Why not just take the pain killers before and after a change? Or even take them all the time? We'd soon get used to them right?

Wrong. For two reasons.

Walking around doped up to the fangs is fine until an emergency change is required, then it becomes difficult. The response is slow and places tremendous strain on the body, which ain't good news if you're fighting for your life.

Secondly, if you suddenly stop taking pain killers, any change that follows comes as a huge shock to the system.

Either way, you leave yourself vulnerable to attack.

Tobius smiled. "Sam's circumstances are unique. I wasn't certain how being turned would affect his old injuries, but I suspected he'd need help."

And it made sense. All hunters carry scars, are always getting injured. It's a tough job in a tough world. Ya get used to it or die. Choice is yours.

But Tobius _doesn't_ have scars, and since he turned me neither do I. Guess I should have remembered that.

Between us, we grabbed the blankets and began to cover the boy up, tucking him in securely. He sighed, muttered something I couldn't make out, and snuggled in contentedly. The meds were obviously doing their job.

Gazing down at him and brushing hair out of his face, that feeling ran through me again... _he's mine. My son._

"Feels good doesn't it?" Tobius' kind, amused voice spoke up behind me.

Turning towards him slightly, I caught his proud gaze. "Feels scary... painful even..." My own voice was husky with emotion and I nodded in agreement. "But yeah, it feels good."

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_**Author's notes:**_

**I'm sure you guys saw this one coming much earlier, but again it's one of the aspects of Dean's relationship with Sam that I was eager to explore; how Dean practically raised Sam by himself. Hope it fascinates you as much as it does me.**

**Kind regards,**

**ST xxx **


	6. Chapter 6

**Hunter of the Shadows**

**Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'**

**Chapter 6**

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**_As a special treat, please go and check out Darksupernatural's homepage for the very lovely DancerInTheDark101's wonderful fanart for this story._**

**_You won't regret it!_**

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**There's a flicker of white then Dean's face appears up close and personal with the camera lens, a slice of pepperoni pizza gripped between his teeth, lips spread wide so as not to touch the hot dough. It's not a pleasant sight, catching a full view right up Dean Winchester's nostrils.**

**"Damn stupid thing... why can't they invent an autofocus that actually fucking _works!_" he's muttering, voice muffled by the pizza. Just as he gives the camera a swift _whack! _a large globule of hot grease drips onto his hand. Dean begins swearing up a storm, dancing angrily round the room and blowing desperately on his scalded hand.**

**A low, tired chuckle sounds from the far bed.**

**"That's what happens when you get violent with technology, dude," Sam breathes out just as Dean disappears from the room. "It was working fine last night."**

**There comes the sound of running water from the bathroom and Dean can be heard sighing in relief before re-emerging, wiping his hands on a towel.**

**"I hardly touched the damn thing!" Dean grouses good naturedly, peers closely at the camera again, unfortunately once again adopting the dreaded _nostril shot_.**

**"Hey!" He taps the outer casing with pride. "It's working! Told ya, Sammy! Standard Operating Procedure; if nothing else solves it? Give it a thump."**

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_**In the past...**_

I watched over Sam for the rest of the night but he showed no sign of coming round. Long after the meds were out of his system the poor kid slept on. Christ knows what else John might have done to him during the sixth months I was gone, and somehow I didn't think Sam would tell me everything.

He looked different already, even in deep sleep. Muscles, though thin and malnourished, were gaining bulk right before my eyes. His jaw and cheekbones rigid, firm, set, well defined.

At nineteen I hadn't quite reached my prime; non-lunars, depending on turning age, don't generally reach their prime until the quarter century. So I had six years to go. Sammy on the other hand was only just fifteen but I could already see signs of the magnificent wolf he'd become.

But we had a long, hard road ahead of us. Sam's induction into the family came at a heavy personal price for the kid, and, for a while there, I thought we were gonna lose him.

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The following night Sam still hadn't surfaced. Tobius and I sat up late talking, quietly discussing Sam's future. I still wanted Sammy to go to college and, to my surprise, Sire was in full agreement. We both wanted our boy to be happy; trouble was, we didn't know how the kid was gonna feel.

Tobius advised caution, to tread carefully until Sam settled in and accepted who and what he was. He had a point.

But something was worrying me about all this.

Tobius was staring into the log fire, unlit cigar caught between thumb and index finger. He looked as distracted and worried as I felt...

"Spit it out Dean."

I bit back a sigh. "You don't think... uh... John... ya know... with Sam?"

Tobius turned to look at me, one dark eyebrow raised. He studied me for a moment, eyes glowing in the firelight.

"What difference would it make now? Sam's with us, he's safe. Don't dwell on it."

That wasn't an answer.

"But Sam might. He's been through so damn much..." I didn't know what the hell I meant but Tobius seemed to.

He leaned forward, settling elbows on knees with a heavy sigh.

"For the record, no. I don't think John sexually abused him. He wasn't the type." Tobius rolled his shoulders, eliciting a light crack and he groaned in contentment. "If you're not convinced then ask yourself something: did you smell him on Sam? I mean, smell him... _like that_?"

I considered that with some relief.

"No... no I guess not."

Tobius nodded.

"Exactly. And John didn't smell of Sam. Case closed." Another swift glance my way. "Now come on. What's really troubling you?"

Huffing and shifting in my seat, I actually thought about that before answering. Not the first time but yeah, still unusual for me.

"Knowing what I now know... how I _feel_... I just don't get it... I mean, how could he?" It seemed that thinking things through hadn't made me any more intelligible. I tried again. "Sam was his _son!_ How could he do that? He thought I was dead, so why do that to the only family he had left?" Tears threatened when I thought of the state Sam was in, seeing him for the first time in six months. "In spite of everything, I never doubted his love for Sammy, but now? What the _hell?_ When did John's ass go evil? _And how didn't I notice?_"

I wasn't even aware that I'd got up, pacing the living room angrily, until Tobius stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

"Dean, listen to me." Tobius, keeping a firm grip on me, pushed down until I was sitting back on the couch. "John wasn't evil, but I do believe he _was_ very sick. You told me how he lost his wife Mary, your mother. How he joined the hunt because of it."

Yeah. I had told him all about that, and, already I could see where he was coming from. Mom dying on the ceiling of Sam's nursery, the house going up in flames... we all lost something that night. Sam was only sixth months old but somehow his loss was greater than mine. He didn't even have the precious memories of our Mom. He grew up with an obsessive father and an over-protective big brother.

And now he didn't even have that. I'd taken away what little he had left. John was dead and he no longer had a brother.

I had no idea how we were getting through this.

_So sorry Sammy. Sorry I failed you._

I heard Tobius sigh.

"Everyone reaches their point of no return. John found his when he thought he'd lost you. I'm convinced that once he'd killed Sam, he would have taken his own life. Don't try to understand, that's a dark path." That firm, reassuring grip on my shoulder again. "You haven't failed anyone, least of all Sam. You saved him, Dean, and he'll need time to adjust so... just give him that time." He stood up and yawned widely. "For the record, you've given that kid much more than you realise. He has a grandfather who loves him, and who could ask for a better dad than you?"

That completely bowled me over but he didn't give me much chance to reply.

"I'm off to bed. Not as young as I used to be," he joked and I rolled my eyes in amusement. "Goodnight son."

"'Night."

I stayed up in case Sam needed me and reflected on how things had changed in the last sixth months, how _I_ had changed. And not just in the small matter of becoming a werewolf.

_Tobius_ had changed me in his own way. I shamelessly used words like _eloquent_ and _hence_. In fact, these days I often sounded like I'd swallowed a damn dictionary. I knew which cutlery to use at the dinner table (start from the outside and work ya way in, just as in silver service – titanium for us though, _not_ silver of course), which brandy's were palatable (see what I mean?), and, shockingly, I could also stay awake through operas.

Alternatively, Tobius was coming to appreciate the finer qualities of mullet rock and had even consented to Motorhead, Black Sabbath and Zeppelin from time to time whenever we hit the road, though he drew a well-defined line at The Scorpions. In his opinion, good music should not require some idiot to start whistling, and the fact the track was entitled 'Winds Of Change' was no excuse. Hafta admit, I do see his point.

During these mindful ramblings, the fire had died down a little and the room was starting to feel a little chilly. As I approached the log basket, a tingling in my spine told me something...

I could _feel_ him, standing in the doorway, and I turned to find an exhausted Sam leaning heavily against the frame, blinking at me in confusion.

"Sammy, what the hell you doing out of bed..." I was already making my way across the room when he swayed and I took a virtual standing leap over the couch. "...._whoa_...easy there kiddo" Just about lunged to catch him as his legs gave out.

He was shaking, badly.

"Dean, I..." Sam whimpered, tucking his head under my chin and burying his face in my shirt, something the kid hadn't done since he was eight.

"Shhh, just relax, Sam." As soon as he quieted, I carried him into the dining room and sat him down. Crouched to his level and brushing hair out of his face, I eyed him carefully, trying not to scare him. "Are you hungry, Sammy?"

Sam gazed at me, sad eyes welling up. "I-I don't kn-know w-what I n-need..." he whispered softly.

But it was coming off him in waves; sheer unadulterated hunger. Poor kid was starving and his healing body was sending messages that Sam was desperately trying to understand.

"Stay here and don't move." Pushing him back against the seat and getting to my feet, a cold shaft of apprehension hit me.

What would Sam make of this? It was really the first time I'd properly wondered about it and I was scared. Still, the youngster needed food. Not much else to do.

The suite of rooms had its own decent sized kitchen, all cupboards fully stocked to bulging with food and other essentials. But Tobius had been out shopping for our more _specific_ needs, as I soon found out on opening the cooler.

Prime fillet beef and venison steaks, rump, sirloin, mince and ribs, pork chops, lambs hearts were stacked three or four high on each shelf, along with several litre cartons of full fat creamy milk.

My mouth was watering.

Pulling out a large pack of meat and throwing it on the counter, I realised Sam had followed me into the kitchen. He stood trembling, eyes glowing, staring at the meat, and I could once again feel his hunger and longing.

_Hungry..._

He was already falling back on his newly acquired instincts, stalking the raw meat as though it were a live animal.

"Sammy?" I called softly, but he didn't look up, just narrowed his eyes, the brilliant blue-green irises shining beautifully. "If you see what you need, take it kiddo. And you need to eat so don't hold back."

I wasn't prepared for his reaction.

Sam fell on the packet of meat, attacking the plastic wrapping, small desperate whimpers and puppy-like growls of frustration until, finally, his teeth sunk into the juicy steak. With an astonishing amount of strength, ripping, tearing, shredding, chewing, swallowing, the entire fourteen- ounce steak was gone in under a minute.

The kid sure learned fast and listened to his instincts.

_That's my boy..._

He stood in front of me shivering, shaking, an expression of utter shock and disbelief on his young face. But there was still the hunger.

Wordlessly, I turned back to the cooler and removed a few more steaks and a carton of milk. Sliding them onto the counter, I paused to glance up. Sam was watching closely as if uncertain the food was for him, his eyes swivelling frantically between the steaks and milk.

"Go ahead Sam," I whispered. "Eat up."

He attacked the next steak with just as much gusto but I was still reaching for a glass when he ripped open the carton and started gulping milk thirstily, some of it spilling down his chin and soaking his T-shirt.

Slamming the empty carton back down, breathing fast and furious, Sam's eyes widened as they met mine and I stared back offering quiet reassurance. But the kid just gaped at me as the silence descended, thick and tense, and a nasty feeling came over me. I realised he knew.

Sam knew what he'd become.

He started frantically shaking his head in denial.

"Nononono..." Revulsion, self-disgust, anguish, all flitted across his tortured face.

"Sammy it's ok," I tried to grasp his arms, hoping physical contact would ground him but he stepped back out of reach.

"No!" Tears streamed down his cheeks as panic set in and Sam started gagging and retching. Dashing for the sink he emptied his stomach of raw beef and milk while I crept over and tried rubbing his back in comfort, but he practically snarled at me.

Another bout of puking and he slumped back against one of the kitchen storage units, sliding to the floor exhausted.

"What have you done to me?" He whispered fearfully, "How could you?"

"Sam..." Reaching out to him again was a big mistake.

"Stay away from me! Don't touch me!" Sam leapt to his feet and ran for the door.

"Sammy wait, get back here!"

Tobius appeared from nowhere, looming over the frightened boy and grabbed Sam up in a tight hold, the kid's back to his chest with one arm round his waist the other round his neck. Sam soon recovered from the shock and started struggling, kicking and biting. His grandfather didn't seem in the least bit put out, just rolled his eyes and smiled tightly.

"Calm down young pup. Nothing is as it seems, but you need to give us the chance to explain..."

"Let me go!" Sam's struggles grew ever more panicked, and Tobius sighed as he jammed two fingers into the pressure point by Sam's ear. The kid didn't even get a chance to flinch away before his struggle began to weaken.

"Don't hurt him!" I yelled anxiously, and I knew damn well better than that, but worry had awakened the village idiot in me.

Tobius just rolled his eyes again and increased the pressure until Sam whimpered and passed out limp against his grandfather's chest. Scooping him up and sliding an arm under the kid's knees the older werewolf smiled tenderly down at him, then carried Sam back to the bedroom.

"I don't want to sedate him," Tobius muttered as he laid the boy down. "We need to talk to him, and the sooner he undergoes his first change the happier I'll feel."

There were certain _societies_, or as I referred to them: _lunatics_, out there that held werewolves in great esteem. In particular, newly turned werewolves that hadn't yet changed were highly sought after for their untapped strengths and, as they hadn't made their first kill, purity of soul. Great for satanic sacrifice; not so great for an unchanged werewolf.

Often they were also used by hunters as bait to trap the more powerful and experienced werewolves. Of course, many of these lunatics didn't know about the different species; as a result they were often unprepared for the consequences, and it rarely ended pretty.

But yeah, I had to agree with Tobius on this one. The sooner Sam gave in to the urge to change the safer he'd be, but something told me he'd be putting up a fight.

Which is why I didn't object when Tobius pulled a pair of handcuffs from the drawer of the nightstand, locked one cuff round Sam's right wrist, the other to the headboard.

"We can't afford to let him escape; Sam's too young to fend for himself out there, so until he understands..." Tobius looked almost apologetic.

_Yeah, I get it._

It wasn't a pleasant thing to admit but Tobius was right; Sam no longer had _human needs_ as such. For a young werewolf, essentially a pup, the world was fraught with danger, and as tough as the kid was he wouldn't survive on his own for long.

Tobius watched us closely as I climbed on the bed and drew Sam against my chest, whispering to him, hoping he could take comfort from my presence.

"I'll go clean up the kitchen," Tobius turned to go then added. "It'll get easier Dean. But we have some way to go until Sam fully accepts what he's become."

I merely nodded and settled down to listen to Sam's breathing; without realising I was even tired I fell into a deep slumber.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

I woke up hours later to a pair of blue-green eyes staring at me, practically glowing with rage.

"Heya Sammy, how ya feelin'?" I shifted, rolling over just as Sam furiously rattled the handcuffs.

"_Pissed _is how I'm feeling Dean!" He rattled them again, more violently this time, metal clinking harshly on the bedstead. "Let me out of these right now! You've no right to hold me like this!"

"Sammy, just calm down and I'll go get Tobius." The handcuffs were strong, specially designed to hold angry werewolves. No way Sam was getting out of those anytime soon.

"I'm right here," The older werewolf appeared in the doorway a slight smile on his face. Then he stepped up to the bed, grabbing Sam's chin in a lightning fast movement and studied the kid's eyes.

"Get off me!" Sam tried to squirm free but Tobius was way too strong.

"Hmm... Yes, it's been quite successful." He gently turned Sam's head from side to side and the kid was helpless to stop him. "Unusual eye colour, quite beautiful in fact. He's strong and healthy, despite all he's been through."

"I'm right here!" Sam growled angrily and Tobius grinned. "Stop talking about me as though I'm not even in the room!"

"Your son certainly shares your temper Dean," Tobius remarked casually.

Sam gaped. "Huh?"

_Yeah, he's my son all right._

"Now young pup, you must be hungry." Tobius softened his tone, produced a key and proceeded to unlock the handcuffs, smiling kindly at the thorough confusion on the boy's face. "But this time let's take it slow, let your stomach adjust. We don't want you getting sick again."

Sam blinked then glanced over at me, not noticing that Tobius was gently rubbing his bruised wrist.

"S-son? Dean? What's he talking about?" Then he turned to gaze up at his captor. "Who are you? Dean, what's going on? Where the hell are we?"

I opened my mouth but it was Tobius that answered him.

"This is my hotel, and I am your grandfather."

Sam's mouth opened then closed several times, and I could see the blood draining away from his face. "Uh..."

"You are a werewolf of the non-lunar variety. Dean turned you in order to save your life." Tobius pressed his point home. "As a result Dean is now your father. John Winchester is dead." Another wide kind smile and he proclaimed softly: "Welcome to the family, young Sam."

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating, so much so the kid's eyes rolled back in his head as shock and exhaustion took him out in a dead faint.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

**So, a lot for poor Sam to take in and he is exhausted beyond belief, both physically and mentally. Will Dean and Tobius be able to keep him grounded?**

**Thank you so much to all who have stuck with the story, and a special thanks goes out to all those wonderful reviewers and kind PMs. They've all served to fortify my courage with this story.**

**Exceptional thanks again to Jen Burch and Sendintheclowns for all their help.**

**Kind regards,**

**ST xxx **


	7. Chapter 7

**Hunter of the Shadows**

**Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'**

**Chapter 7**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

**Dean's grinning again and this time it's more than a little smug, but it's made worse by what appears to be tomato ketchup smeared over his chin. Looking over his shoulder reveals a different motel room. The lighting is better so it's possible to make out the green and purple swirly wall paper, which really is unfortunate. It's actually worse than one of Dean's nostril shots.**

**"Yeah, Sammy totally fainted like a girl." But there's a distinct gleam in his eyes. It tells the watcher Dean's memory of it isn't quite as amusing as he makes out.**

**"Dude, _just_ found out I was a werewolf," Sam replies. "_And_ my brother was now my father." He frowns a little, probably wondering about correcting his own grammar.**

**This time, Sam is sitting up in bed, back against the headboard, looking pale and tired. He's nibbling unenthusiastically on something that vaguely resembles a burger, and is clearly not very hungry.**

**Dean waves a hand.**

**"Whatever. You fainted.**

**"I seem to recall you freaking out more than once." Sam rolls his eyes and finally ditches the burger. "Dean? Please wipe your face before I hurl."**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Back to the past...**_

"Sam!" I darted forward, framing his face with my hands, _hoping_ he was going to be ok in more ways than one. "Come on Sammy wake up kiddo, please."

"He'll be fine. Just one hell of a thing to come home to," Tobius said gently.

I glowered at him.

"You didn't help matters. Not exactly subtle, were ya?"

The guy just shrugged.

"Not one of my finer points at times, admittedly, but he had to be told. Sometimes the direct approach is called for. I saw no point in beating around the bush." He bowed out of the bedroom. "There are some smelling salts in the bathroom. The sooner he comes round the sooner he can eat and get his strength back."

Tobius returned in record time, holding a small, dark blue glass phial under Sam's nose. The kid stirred immediately, struggling weakly in my arms. Tobius took his leave, giving us some peace.

"Shhh, kiddo, it's alright." Smoothing a hand through his thick mop of hair and rocking him gently seemed to work, calming him down. Sam's eyes fluttered open and he gazed up at me. "Sam, you ok?"

"I... ah... not sure." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Uh... are you r-really my f-father?" he asked in a small voice, as if hoping he'd got it wrong, that this was all a big mistake and he was just dreaming.

"'Look's that way." I answered softly, and Sam started crying, silent tears rolling down his face.

And I had to admit, that hurt. _Really _hurt. I don't know what I was expecting but _had _hoped Sam would be as enthusiastic about it as I was. But then, he'd had several shocks to his system already; maybe he just needed space to come to terms with it all.

"Dad's _dead_?" He sobbed out loud.

"Yeah Sammy, he's dead." I instinctively tightened my hold on him, voice hardened with raw emotion. "And good riddance! That bastard nearly killed you..."

"He _loved_ me, Dean." Sam insisted, stubbornly. "In his own way... he just couldn't cope with losing his favourite son... and he was our _Dad!_"

That did it; I was on my feet and grabbing hold of Sam's shirt front, shaking him hard.

"What the hell's wrong with you...?" But the fresh tears glimmering on my boy's face halted me. I was hurting him and that was unforgivable. As Tobius had pointed out more than once, Sam needed time. Releasing his shirt but reaching round and rubbing his neck, I sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, kiddo. Look, I know it's a lot to take in, but we'll help you through it ok? I'm here and this time I'm staying."

Sam sniffed loudly and nodded.

"Just... can't believe he's gone."

I was just relieved Sam trusted me.

"Yeah, I know. But ya still got me."

Sam pulled back, sniffing again.

"So... uh... how... does it work? I mean..." He shook his head helplessly, obviously not sure he wanted to know. "Do you remember much? After changing... ya know... wolfing out?"

I chuckled lightly at that. "Yeah, we ain't monsters, Sam. It doesn't work that way with our kind. We have full control and make our own choices."

"Really?" Sam stared at me hopefully.

So I explained everything and Sam listened closely, the look of relief on his young face growing with each passing minute. He still looked confused as hell, especially when I got round to covering the whole 'your big brother is now your father' topic, but he seemed genuinely fascinated and excited at the prospect of leaning all he could about wolf lore.

Some things just don't change.

_My geeky son!_

Sam didn't ask much about his new grandfather and I could see he was dying to know. But for Sam, there were more pressing matters.

"Does is hurt?" Sam's question caught me by surprise.

"Huh?" I shook my head lightly in bewilderment.

"Changing." His voice wavered with fear. No way was I bull-shitting my way out of this one. Kid could spot a whopper like this a mile off.

"Yeah, it does." Resting a hand on his back, I could feel him trembling. "But you get use to it. The pain don't last long, and it's really no big deal after a while Sammy."

"Is to me." Tear-filled eyes turned back my way. "I don't think I can do it, Dean. M'not sure I'm gonna be cut out for this life. Wasn't much good at hunting before..." his voice trailed off, shoulders hunched in sadness.

"Now that's crap." I gazed at him steadily. "You're still learning and John weren't all that patient; he never appreciated you for what you did for the hunt. Kid, I understand what he was doing to you long before I left, and I shoulda said something. I just didn't really _see_ it for what it was at the time. But now you're here, you're _alive..._ you'll be fine. And we'll be here to help you." _Not knock you down at every turn._

Sam went very quiet before _finally _asking. "So... uh... what's _he_ like? Tobius I mean."

I took a deep breath.

"He's a scary stubborn bastard, domineering; irritating as hell, old fashioned in many ways and when I first met him I hated his guts."

Sam gulped loudly.

"But he's also a kind, generous, caring and considerate father," That took _me_ by surprise. Never thought I'd hear myself say that about _any_one much less a werewolf, but even as the words tumbled out of my mouth I knew I wasn't just saying it to reassure Sam. I meant _every_ word. "He gives his heart easy, loves you already and he can't wait to start really being your grandfather." I raised an eyebrow at the show of interest in the kid's eyes. "Ya know he's at least eight hundred years old? Remembers the crusades and all, and he don't mind talking about it."

"Really?" Sam's eyes were glowing again, this time with excitement and I was relieved to take his mind off thoughts of his first change. Sam being the sensitive soul, this was gonna hit him hard if the incident in the kitchen was anything to go by.

"Really." Ruffling his hair gently, I helped him out of bed. He only had on blue sweats and a thin shirt, the same clothes I redressed him in the night before, so I pulled a soft dark sweat shirt out of a drawer and draped it over his head, laughing as he stood there shaking himself free. "Put that on runt. Stay warm." He might be a werewolf but he was still young and undernourished; I wasn't taking any chances.

"Thanks De... uh, Dad?" Sam stared at the carpet shyly, shifting nervously. And I realised just how hard this was for him when he cried out softly "I don't know what to call you anymore!"

"Hey!" I tilted his chin up. "I'm still Dean, still the same person. You don't have to call me that ya know. I don't call Tobius that."

Sam looked at me gratefully.

"I'm just not ready... sorry Dean."

I nodded in understanding. I've _never_ called Tobius 'Dad'. On occasion I called him Sire or Father, but mostly just referred to him by his given name. Guess I should have taken that into account with Sammy.

"S'ok." I slung an arm round his thin shoulders. "C'mon. Let's go see what Tobius came up with in the kitchen." And smiled when Sam nodded enthusiastically.

The smell of fine steaks cooking in garlic oil was already wafting throughout the apartment, and when we got to the kitchen we were _both_ in for a surprise. Tobius was humming away merrily to Mozart's The Magic Flute, his background music of choice for the evening, whilst gracefully whirling round sautéing, frying, mashing and steaming.

Yeah Tobius is a big fan of Mozart...

"_A pure, musical genius through and through," Tobius had once described him, paused then added "of course the man himself was an irritating little tit..."_

Worried that Sam would be scared or overwhelmed, I understood why we were eating in the rooms tonight, but he could have just ordered up from the hotel restaurant... I started grinning from ear to ear.

Oh yeah! Grandpa was showing off for his grandson.

Sam looked completely bewildered by all the food preparations, but even more so when the food itself was served. Minute steak with cheddar mash, carrots and green beans, fresh bread all washed down with red wine.

"Uh... I'm underage." Sam glanced up apologetically when Tobius poured him a generous glass of Shiraz.

"Not here you aren't. Alcohol doesn't affect us in the same way as humans." Tobius smiled kindly, then stood back and studied the kid's face. Sam looked a little pale, his eyes wide as he stared at his food, making no move to touch it. "When was the last time you ate properly? Apart from the other night when you were sick?"

I put down my knife and fork, waiting as Sam licked his lips nervously before answering.

"Dad, I mean John, was more into the _liquid_ diet." He stared at his wineglass almost fearfully. "So I guess maybe a week before you guys showed." Sam shrugged as he thought about that. "Chips and candy bars's pretty much all I ever got to eat since Dean... left, and only when John was sober enough to remember."

"Sonfobitch!" I muttered angrily.

_Dean! _Tobius' mind hissed at me in warning. _Calm yourself for Sam's sake. He's been frightened enough as it is!_

Blowing out a breath, I nodded my assent.

It explained why Sam was so worried about alcoholic beverages; John hadn't exactly set a great example of responsible drinking and Sam obviously feared ending up the same way.

"In moderation, red wine is great for the heart and circulatory system, Sam. Just sip and savour." Tobius patted Sam on the shoulder. "Now eat up before it gets cold. You need plenty of protein and carbohydrate to build yourself up."

But Sam was looking at us both strangely.

"What was that?"

We both realised what he meant but I waved it off.

"One of the perks of being a werewolf. I'll explain later, now eat!"

Sam picked up his knife and fork, eyes flickering eagerly round his plate as if wondering what to start on first, then dug straight in. This time his progress was sedate but I could still sense the underlying edge of hunger as he loaded his fork with a piece of steak and mash, then chewed heartily, eyes closed in bliss. He reminded me of a much younger Sam at that moment, and I nearly forgot my own food until Tobius gently tapped my foot under the table, a silent warning not to stare. But it was hard not to.

Sam cleared his plate, sipped through one glass of wine, then leaned back in his chair, eyes sleepy with contentment.

"That was great... uh... Tobius." Sam announced a little hesitantly, obviously still unsure about his new status, then whispered. "Thank you."

Tobius smiled.

_You're welcome pup._

Sam's eyes widened.

"There it goes again!"

I nodded.

"Yeah, you've experienced it before, though you _were_ real sick at the time." I couldn't help grinning at the wondrous expression on the kid's face. "You'd just been turned..."

_Sammy..._

He sat up straight in his seat, gaze swivelling between the two of us.

"What? You guys read can read each other's thoughts?" Sam looked a little horrified at that.

I resisted the urge to laugh. Sam was a young teenager and yeah, some of his thoughts were probably a little embarrassing; I was quick to reassure him again.

"S'not really like that. We can hold a conversation in silence, sure, but it's not so invasive." I glanced at Tobius for back up.

"Exactly," the elder werewolf explained. "It's more a willing thought _projection, _rather than stealing into each other's minds and taking what we want."

"Soooo, it's voluntary?" Sam looked a little relieved when we both nodded again in confirmation. He sucked on his bottom lip and I waited for the next question with fond amusement, "C-can I try it?"

"Of course. Go ahead, we're listening." Tobius sat back and took a sip of wine.

Sam appeared to concentrate hard, eyes closed, brows pulled down into a frown.

_Not sure this is gonna work..._

I grinned broadly.

_Wanna bet kiddo?_

Sam jumped in his seat, eyes snapping open.

"Holy shit! I did it! I mean... we communicated with our_ minds!_"

"And that's not all," I said patting his shoulder. "Remember all that stuff you found on the internet?"

_And we didn't believe you. Sorry, kid._

"Uhuh." Sam smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "About enhanced sense of smell, hearing and sight, and the whole immortality thing?"

I crossed my arms smugly.

"All true Sammy."

_See what I meant about Dad not appreciating what you did for the hunt? Your research is second to none!_

Sam blushed shyly as usual. He never did take compliments well.

"About that immortality trait," Tobius leaned in, frowning with concern. "Yes, we have the potential to live forever mainly because we are not affected by the passage of time, but contrary to what else you may have read, that does not make us indestructible. Tough, hard to kill yes, but _not_ invulnerable." He pulled on a pair of leather gloves then turned his back for a second. The soft snick of a drawer opening and closing could be heard before he turned back to us again. He held something out in his gloved hand. It was small, metallic and squashed. I recognised it immediately. "This is the bullet I pulled out of you Sam. Would you like to touch it?"

_You can't be serious! Tobius are you crazy?_ I fumed madly, forgetting Sam could hear us, and was glancing between us now a little warily.

Tobius merely stared at Sam. I knew the guy was all for an up front education, believed in the hands-on approach but this?

_Sammy don't!_

Before I could stop him, Sam reached over and let his fingers touch the metal, pulling away and hissing in pain at first contact. He started sucking on his fingers and muttering some pretty impressive profanities, but after a few seconds he looked up with watery eyes and nodded.

"I get it," Sam murmured sadly, "Silver, right?"

Tobius dropped the offending item back into the drawer then crouched by the boy's chair with a gentle smile.

"Nicely deduced son." He appeared to search Sam's face intently. "What you did for Dean was both brave and selfless, and nearly cost you your life. _Would_ have without a doubt if not for his stubborn nature. He insisted on turning you. I admit that I was against it, didn't believe it would work. But it has." Tobius' voice lowered softly. "And I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

Now I understood the little lesson. It was the equivalent of telling a child to stay away from the heater, but when the child decides to find out for itself they soon learn to pay heed to a parental warning. A little extreme but effective, it has to be said, and Sam certainly got the message.

But, to Sam's distress that wasn't all he learned.

Tobius got to his feet.

"Silver not only holds the potential to kill instantly by a bullet or blade to the heart, but it can make us very sick by just a simple stab wound or cut. If the source of the silver is removed..."

Sam interrupted. "We recover quickly, but if not then it slowly paralyses us until it reaches the heart."

Tobius looked approvingly at his newest student, but I could tell what Sam was going through. He was finally realising the consequences of John's actions the night he was shot, as if getting a bullet in the chest wasn't a big enough epiphany for the kid. But I could see it on his face; it was me he was thinking of.

Sam turned to stare at me, fear and remorse darkening his eyes.

"He really was gonna do it, wasn't he?" He whispered. "John, I mean? He was gonna kill you, without explanation or anything."

If he wasn't so convinced before, he sure was now, and I never saw him cry over John Winchester again.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam seemed to relax a little after the meal. We sat round the open log fire in the living room, Tobius in his armchair smoking a cigar, Sam and I huddled up on the soft carpet, our backs against the sofa.

The ancient werewolf recounted tales of long ago. He once met Mozart in Prague, October 1787, the opening night of Don Giovanni. He narrowly avoided being beheaded during the English Civil War, dramatically escaped The Great Fire Of London... his memories jumped back and forth across history in answer to Sam's endless questions, and he did it gladly. Something John hadn't been too keen on.

But Tobius knew what he was doing and understood Sam's mission: to test him, catch him out, compare all his new grandfather told him with everything he'd ever read, even learning some new facts that hadn't yet been noted in the history books.

Tobius spoke of hunts through the years, the danger, the adrenaline, the fear - not just of getting hurt by the prey, but of getting caught by humans. Hunters were a particular problem; I had to agree they were a single-minded bunch, and John was no exception. Anything supernatural was evil, with little or no grey areas in between. It would never occur to them that our kind were there to help, not hinder, and the silver bullets would start flying the minute they laid eyes on us.

Sam listened, looking a little worried when Tobius, with his usual tact and diplomacy, embarked on the sensitive subject of Sam's first change.

"The sooner the better, for your safety and ours."

He warned the boy of the cults that would seek his purity for sacrifice and the human hunters that would use him as bait to trap his family

Sam dropped his gaze and stared at the floor. I could feel his anxiety and wished I could make it all easier on him; but there was nothing I could do. He had to face this alone.

Well, sort of.

"Hey! S'alright kiddo. We'll be there to see you through it, ok?" I nudged him with my elbow but Sam didn't look up, and didn't say a word.

Tobius and I exchanged worried glances.

"Sam?" Tobius leaned forward in his armchair and gently tilted Sam's chin so he met his eyes. "He's right. We'll be there to coach you, help you control the pain... and I can't lie on that score, it wouldn't be fair to you. It _will_ be painful Sam, but trust me when I say it's more than worth it. And it will soon fade."

Sam looked at me, seeking reassurance and I smiled back at him. The kid nodded slowly, beginning to tremble.

"Ok." He whispered. "When? Should we do this now?"

He sounded so scared and miserable that even Tobius didn't have the heart to push.

"We're having a nice, relaxing evening by the fire after a long day." The older werewolf responded kindly. "How about tomorrow? I know somewhere secluded and safe." He winked at me.

I knew the place. He'd taken me there a few times. It was our place of meditation and contemplation, a bolt hole whenever we needed to stay away from civilisation. And there are many reasons for needing the time out. No offence guys, but spending time around you humans? It can get pretty stifling. It's a measure of just how suffocating it is that someone like me needs to meditate from time to time. I mean _me_, meditating? Can you imagine that?

You people have so many laws and rules with no breathing space in between to actually _live_. Even when I _was_ human I found it hard enough, but now? It's like living in a goldfish bowl, where no one's allowed to have their secrets without coming under the spotlight. Where everybody knows everybody else's business. Where being a _private __person_ is viewed with high suspicion.

If I didn't get to change and run free under the night sky several times a week I'd go nuts. So as much as we'll protect you, willingly be your guardians, you can keep your goldfish bowl of a world and good luck to you.

In the meantime, I'll make like Yoda to keep my sanity, thank you very much.

Sam nodded hesitantly and I slung an arm round his shoulders.

"You'll like it there Sammy. Plenty of grass, trees and all that shit. Oh, and a small river. Great for fishing!"

Sam turned to me, staring in disbelief.

"You? Go _fishing_?" He blinked with suspicion. "Dean, you don't even like _camping_! You once said you'd never go five minutes from anywhere you couldn't get a cheeseburger and a beer! Not to mention a decent cra... er... rest room." His eyes flickered to Tobius very briefly, face turning red at the near slip of the tongue.

I shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious.

"A man can change dude!"

"As it turns out, Dean is quite the fisherman." Tobius interjected, sounding rather amused.

I blushed at that and scratched at the back of my head.

"I'm not sure I could be called a fisherman, per se, if I don't use a rod and line."

"How do you catch fish then?" asked Sam, eyes wide with curiosity.

I bit my lip, not sure this was gonna come out well.

"Uh... does it count as a technique when it's called: 'take flying leap into water and keep jaw open?'"

Whereupon, Sam snorted.

"Don't tell me, you just wait for the fish to get trapped in your big ol' mouth!"

Tobius roared with laughter.

"Now you know why he's so successful! It's like watching a large vacuum cleaner at work!"

"Hey!" I pouted with mock-indignation and the other two laughed all the harder. "Not my fault I'm a fast swimmer!"

Evening soon turned to full on night, the fire beginning to die down. Sam, having fallen asleep an hour ago, drooled on my shoulder but I didn't mind. I was still remembering all too well those six months without him, followed by those terrible moments when he nearly died. John's face popped into my head more than once that evening and I banished him with a silent growl.

_Sam's finally gotta father who'll care about him, who'll be proud of him._

Tobius glanced over with an amused but affectionate smile, and Sam muttered and stirred in his sleep. I winced, knowing somehow he'd heard me but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

"I think I'd better get this one into a proper bed." I announced. Gently scooping Sam up into my arms, I nodded to Tobius. "See you in the morning. For the next phase!" I whispered with a grin.

"Goodnight son. Get plenty of rest." He nodded back. "You're going to need it."

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_**Author's notes:**_

Dean and Tobius really have their work cut out for them. And poor Sam is really not looking forward to the big change.

Hope you guys aren't too bored and I'll see you again soon with the next chapter.

**Fic rec: Any LimpSam fans out there should check out Danrac's great fic 'Kerry's Awake'. I've really been enjoying it.**

Kind regards,

ST xxx


	8. Chapter 8

**Hunter of the Shadows**

**Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'**

**Chapter 8**

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**_Special thanks to Sendintheclowns, Phx, and Neatybix for all their suggestions._**

**_And of course to Jen Burch, who in spite of facing some pretty nasty bush fires, has still managed to step up to the mark._**

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**This time when Dean switches on the camera he manages it with little fuss, and he keeps his voice soft and low. He also sounds a little husky from lack of sleep.**

**"Been on the road what seems like forever but we finally made it. I think we'll be safe here 'til spring, but once the snow melts and the road opens..." He shrugs. "I guess we'll be moving on again."**

**He turns his attention to Sam, who's sprawled out across a comfy looking couch and snoring lightly.**

**"Poor kid's exhausted." Dean talks quietly as he tugs a warm woollen throw over the sleeping boy. "I guess spending hours scrunched up in the car with a healing bullet wound'll do that."**

**It appears the boys are staying in some kind of cabin; it's huge, obviously has more than one room, and the fire blazing away in its grate casts flickering shadows over the walls, giving the place a cosy feel.**

**Dean lifts up Sam's feet, slides underneath onto the couch and drapes them over his knees. After pulling off Sam's boots and socks, he leans back comfortably and stares into the flames.**

**"There's so much more to tell, and now we have the time to bring you up to speed."**

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_**Back... again...**_

Tobius made arrangements for another rental and tossed me the keys to the Impala.

"I guess this belongs to you now," he said with a grin. Tobius and I were alike in that respect, both preferring to be in the driver's seat.

We turned at the sound of someone clumping dejectedly down the hallway, then Sam appeared in the kitchen looking sad and nervous.

"'Bout time you surfaced," I called out from my spot by the stove. "C'mon, breakfast's ready."

Sam said nothing, just trudged over to the breakfast bar and slumped down on a stool next to Tobius. He didn't even look up when I put a plate of my famous Cajun and cream cheese scrambled eggs on toast in front of him. Plenty of much needed fat and protein for the kid, not to mention tasty as hell. But he just picked at it with his fork, occasionally placing a small piece in his mouth and chewing without enthusiasm.

I tried to smother a sigh.

"Sammy, eat up now. You'll feel much better."

Still nothing. Tobius tossed me a kindly look of warning.

"Sam," it was his turn to try. "What exactly are you afraid of? Is it the pain?"

Sam finally, _slowly_ looked up at us both and I nearly gasped at the fear and anguish in his eyes.

He shook his head just as slowly.

"No, not really. I'm too used to pain to be afraid of it," he whispered.

That I could believe after everything John did to him.

A line like that should have sounded macho, but coming from Sam, it just broke my heart.

One conversation that will stay with me forever, was Sam's explanation in full detail of what happened the night he was thrown down the stairs. I could only begin to imagine how alone and afraid he must have been, lying at the bottom of the staircase, leg broken and crying out in pain. John had turned his back on his crying son, and staggered away, slamming the door on Sam, probably thinking about his next meeting with JD.

On the cusp of passing out from incredible pain, the kid had dragged himself to the kitchen to perform some extremely crude first aid. A broom stick and several dishcloths served as a makeshift splint, before Sam lost consciousness. When he woke up ten hours later, he was still sprawled out on the kitchen floor, but the note resting on his chest told him John had left for another hunt.

My blood still boils even now whenever I think of it.

"Then, what?" Tobius pressed carefully.

Sam bit his trembling bottom lip.

"If I change... there's really no going back, is there? I mean, I'll always be different, about as far from normal as you can get."

It was on the tip of my tongue to point out it was already too late to go back, and by avoiding his first change he was just putting off the inevitable. But I think I understood what he meant. This was hard enough to come to terms with, but to change right now would make it all too real. And he was right about being different; we were a million miles away from normal and then some.

I just nodded.

"Yeah, but ya know something Sam? Normal ain't all it's cracked up to be. And besides, I think you're gonna like _werewolf_ normal much more." His mouth twitched uncertainly so I added "Trust me kiddo. It's way cooler than _human_ normal."

Tobius remained silent, but the small smile on his face told me he approved of the way I'd handled this one. As for Sam? I still don't think he was entirely convinced by this stage but I could tell he was interested.

"Now eat up runt, before it gets cold!"

At least he didn't let my Cajun scrambled eggs go to waste, and eagerly started scooping up great forkfuls.

"Thanks Dean," he mumbled between bites. "This is really great by the way."

I crossed my arms, grinning widely. _Just call it Dean Ramsay's F Word._

Tobius immediately jumped off his stool.

"I think I'd better leave now before I drown in your culinary smugness,"he announced demurely, and with a quick grin left the kitchen.

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"Nearly there." Pulling the car onto a rough dirt road in the middle of nowhere, I glanced over to find Sam clenching and unclenching his jaw nervously. Once I found our place, I nudged him gently with an elbow. "C'mon, let's get ready."

As we leant against the hood I heard another vehicle pulling up beside us. Tobius jumped out from behind the wheel of a superb black Porsche Cayenne, dragging a back pack with him.

"We have good weather for it this time," he observed, glancing up at the wide blue sky with approval. The sun had been up a full hour by the time we finally arrived. Tobius had stayed on at the hotel, claiming he had some other arrangements to make, and then followed on after us. I was surprised to see him so soon, but then given what he'd been driving...

"Yeah, last time we got pissed on from a real great height." I explained to Sam with a grin. "Doesn't stop us enjoying ourselves, just means the car smells of wet dog for days on end."

Tobius clapped his hands together.

"Right! Clothes off gentlemen!"

Sam gaped. "Huh? What?"

"We won't need any clothes so we might as well leave them here in my pack out of harm's way," Tobius explained calmly, but Sam was already backing away and shaking his head.

"No way, nuhuh, there is _no way_ I'm getting naked out here with you guys!" Sam glanced over his shoulder, worriedly scanning the area. "Supposing someone sees us!"

He lowered his voice to an almost whisper. "People might talk!"

"Sammy," I approached him slowly, trying not to laugh. "Lift your nose, open your eyes... _is_ there anyone else here?"

He clearly hadn't thought of that, and equally clearly he hadn't been using his newly acquired senses all that much, except for when there was food available. But then, this was the first time he'd really been outside since being turned, and he seemed a little overwhelmed by it all.

He sniffed the air tentatively and tilted his head on one side. "I can smell... you guys... and pine needles? Uh... something weird... large... not sure how to describe it... _it's moving!_" Sam suddenly squeaked, nearly jumping into my arms.

"Earthy? Smells of the forest? Blood and sweat? Hear a rumbling like the ground's shaking?" Sam nodded quickly; I couldn't hold back any longer and started laughing my ass off. "It's a herd of deer Sam, that's what you can smell. Can you hear their heartbeats? Makes you think of food, huh?"

It was fascinating watching the different expressions cross his face as I spoke. All the same emotions as the night he first consumed raw meat came into play: hunger, longing, disgust, and revulsion.

The kid looked a little frightened.

"Uh... we're not gonna..."

"Not this time round." Tobius was already standing naked and proud. "Another time perhaps, when you're ready for a hunt. And besides, the deer are about twenty miles north of here." He grinned broadly. "We don't have that kind of time."

I started removing my boots and jeans just as Sam backed up again.

"Whatever. I'm not getting naked out here. And I really wish you guys wouldn't 'cos it's making me uncomfortable."

Sometimes you have to know when to compromise, and sometimes you have to learn when to quit altogether.

I stared at him, noting the stubborn set to his jaw and defensively crossed arms. But beneath the veneer of calm determination, there was a clear line of self-consciousness. Sam never was the kind to preen in the mirror each morning, in spite of my teasing to the contrary, and now I thought about it he barely looked at himself at all. He was ashamed of his body and that was something we needed to work on.

Obviously, he wasn't aware of his new, nicely developing physique, or even the smooth skin that now replaced his scars. That amazed me actually. Sam's a smart kid, definitely smarter than me, _possibly_ smarter than Tobius, yet he hadn't questioned that he could now walk without limping, no longer hunched his shoulders in pain.

I could tell by the sad look on Tobius' face he'd come to the same conclusion.

_All right Sam. For now you can keep your garments on, but later when we start the change I strongly recommend you take them off._ He added for comfort, _and we won't be naked for long._

Sam hesitated before giving his grandfather a quick nod of agreement.

Within seconds, Tobius and I were shaking out our tails and giving our ears a good scratch, and Sam watched, open-mouthed. The only time he'd ever seen this was when he'd been shot by John, so it was doubtful he remembered much beyond the pain and shock.

Lifting my muzzle and sniffing the clean air, I let out a loud joyful bark and started leaping around like a mental patient.

God it felt good to be back in this form! After so many days and nights without even a chance to change, too worried about leaving Sam whilst he was sick, wanting to be there when he woke up... and now here I was, free as a bir... wolf.

Oh... _yeah baby!_

Laughter, the sound so sweet it warmed me from ears to paws, put a stop to my happy dance. _Sam_ was laughing, not freaking out, but _laughing._

I padded over, tongue lolling out my in best 'big friendly dog' routine, circled round him a few times, my bushy tail brushing his waist, and sat back on my haunches in front of him. Then I was up on my rear legs, large front paws on his chest and burying my muzzle in his neck, snuffling loudly. All of which made Sam giggle all the harder.

_Stop! Dean.... that tickles... stop!_

But I kept up my gentle assault, anxious to show him that everything was ok, that there was nothing to be afraid of.

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_How does it feel?_ Sam asked tentatively, and I fixed him with a look of pure happiness.

_Like you wouldn't believe kiddo. And this will be you before the day's out._

The small smile twitching at his mouth gave me hope.

Tobius was padding on ahead of us. _You'll love the freedom this gives you, Sam. But trust us to watch out for you, and we'll keep you safe._

Sam nodded and stroked a hand over my head, down my spine. I rarely allowed anyone but hot chicks to touch me in this form – and there ain't nothing like a long-legged, big-breasted girly giving me the _aw shucks ain't you a beautiful boy_ routine - but Sam was different and somehow it brought us both some comfort. He'd been a little disconcerted at seeing Tobius in wolf form, remembering the night I was turned, but Tobius soon fixed that by rolling on his back in the thick grass like a giant puppy, allowing Sam to rub his belly and stroke his silky ears.

Tobius is a slut, frankly, and I say that with great affection. In spite of being the big bad fierce werewolf, he loves to be touched in this form. There's nothing sexual in it, and I'll admit it can be relaxing, but he's way more touchy-feely than me any day of the week. I was starting to wonder if Father wasn't more of a girl than Sam in that respect. But then, you don't say that kind of thing to an eight hundred plus year old werewolf who could easily kick your ass into the middle of next week.

Even _I_ ain't that stupid.

In a few hours we were there. And I gotta tell ya boys and girls, when I was human this shit never impressed me. Sam saw it as natural, beautiful and was pretty much a damn tree-hugger; I saw it as a bug fest, all those little fuckers with wings ready to take a chunk outta me just for the fun of it.

But now... yeah I saw the point alright. And it never failed to amaze me every time.

I once privately speculated that this land was charmed in some way, having escaped the so-called _progress _of modern life, and even voiced it to Tobius. He just gave me a mysterious smile and said nothing. There were thousands of acres of forest and meadows here, and no one seemed to own it.

And in way, maybe no one ever should.

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Sam was sitting by the river, his back against a fallen tree, eyes closed. He looked fully relaxed, half asleep even, as Tobius padded up and down in frustration.

Nothing seemed to work. At first we thought Sam was deliberately blocking the change, but Tobius was sure that wasn't even possible, the desires of the wolf too strong to fight. Then it emerged hours later with a pretty decent hypnotherapy session that Sam's _sub-conscious_ was blocking it. His freaky, galaxy-sized brain was stopping his change and all for the same reasons he'd given us that very morning.

So we were trying relaxation and meditation, something Sam seemed to be really good at. It was hoped that relaxing him whilst still awake would allow natural instincts to take over.

_I felt something!_ Sam's mind whispered to us. He sat bolt upright in the same instant and held his hands out in front of him.

_Look! It's happening... ewww! That's gross!_

His knuckles were widening, shifting, contracting, fine hairs growing and thickening. Sam let out a sharp hiss of pain when the nails suddenly sprouted and changed into claws. But something was very wrong here. The rest of Sam's body didn't appear to following suit at all.

Whilst I was on the verge of a major freak-out, Tobius seemed to understand what was going on.

_Sam let go! Let go Sam! If you fight it you'll be in even more pain._

Sam grit his teeth, clenched his eyes shut with a nod, and I could see the effort it cost him. _I... I'm trying... can't.... oh God! NOOOOOO!_

_Sammy what is it? What's wrong? _I was about ready to change back when he slumped against the old tree, panting heavily, all signs of the change fading quickly.

"I'm sorry... so sorry." He spoke aloud, tears rolling down his face and dripping off his chin. "I tried but it just wouldn't... I don't know what happened. So sorry I let you guys down." Sam rested his head on his knees, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

I changed immediately and gathered the disheartened kid into my arms.

"Ssshhh Sam. It's ok, ya know? We can try another time."

Tobius trotted over and stood behind him, muzzle resting comfortingly on Sam's shoulder.

_He's right. Just take a rest for now and we'll head back._

"It's just... I always wanted to be normal, and as a _human_ I couldn't manage it... and now I can't even manage it as a _werewolf_." Sam stifled a few more sobs and swiped angrily at his tears. "Guess John was right about me; I'm just one big loser all round."

"Stop that!" I held him tighter and Tobius let out an angry growl. "You ain't a loser Sam, alright? You've been through hell for Christ sake; maybe we shoulda taken that into account."

_It'll happen when you're ready Sam,_ Tobius licked gently at Sam's ear. _We all just need to be patient _he huffed out an embarrassed sigh. _Especially me it seems. I'm sorry pup; I shouldn't have pushed you so hard._

"Let's leave it for the rest of the day huh?" I rubbed his back in soothing circles, feeling the tremors gradually subside. "You're tired and hungry. And you _have_ made some progress Sam."

Sam sniffed miserably.

"I really wanted to, Dean. I wanted to be ready today."

There was something about his statement that nagged. Tobius shifted off Sam's shoulder and trotted round to confront the kid face to face.

_Look at me. _Sitting back on his haunches, he stared deep into Sam's eyes. His massive head dipped forwards and gently lapped at the kid's tears. _You wanted to be ready for all the wrong reasons. You can't do this just for us. If you truly want to let go, truly wish to change, you must do this for yourself._

Sam nodded jerkily.

"Yeah, I guess."

Tobius sat back again. _Are you ready for some food?_

A small smile crept onto Sam's face.

"Does that mean I get to see Dean fish now?"

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_Careful, taking it slow. _

I moved slowly through the shallows, demonstrating my awesome hunting and fishing skills.

_Move slow and calm; don't let them know you're there._

Smoothly and slowly moving each leg and placing each paw in turn, with barely a ripple I watched and waited.

_Splosh! _

There was a large dip, hidden by sunlight reflecting off the river, and I disappeared beneath the surface, swallowing what felt like several gallons of river. Large ripples carried through the water in my wake as I leapt and spluttered, catching glimpses of the shining rainbow trout darting ahead of me. I could hear Sam laughing in the background, and I'm pretty sure the fish were also enjoying my humiliation.

Tobius, of course, couldn't resist putting in his own two cents worth. _You're supposed to __swim __in the river Dean, not drink it._

Needless to say, my angrily growled response was easy to interpret; the air should have turned blue. Sam started applauding loudly.

"This is great! It's like a dinner cabaret act!" He carried on grinning and throwing more wood on the campfire. None of us had any matches or a lighter but Sam, Boy Scout Extraordinaire, knew a little camp craft and soon had a nice blaze going. "But without the dinner... speaking of which, Dean? Should we order pizza?"

I scowled. _We're having fish even if it kills me!_

_I'm sure it will kill us all, _Tobius snorted and huffed through his snout. _Probably from starvation._

_You're not helping!_ I sent Tobius a baleful look and went back to my hunt.

Searching, I moved into deeper water, legs kicking slowly but powerfully. Ah, there was one lonely fishy, just waiting for me. I stopped moving, watching the large shadow below, waiting for my chance... then, quick as a flash, I dived down like a torpedo, jaws wide open, and snatched at the trout. It wriggled in my mouth, desperate to get free, but I sunk my fangs in further until it finally got the message and croaked.

I emerged victorious from the depths, leaping up onto the bank and trotting over to the campfire. Dropping the fish at Sam's feet like a gift, I turned to Father. Tobius lay panting delicately, the regal patriarch of the family, front paws crossed, head held high... until I shook half a ton of river water on the smug bastard from my thick fur.

He howled long and loud, and chased me through the trees, threatening all kinds of retribution I had no doubt he'd delight in if he ever caught me. But I was faster, more refreshed from the dunking in the river, and dashed in and out, round in circles and finally back to the campfire.

Sam was watching us with amusement and wistful sadness. He was obviously dying to join in the fun, and I prayed that he'd change soon just for that alone. Sam deserved better than to be on the outside looking in.

Sam was clearly going to be the practical one amongst us though, because he was already at work on the fish. I watched eagerly, saliva filling my mouth as he carefully selected a rock, began to file a few sticks of wood to sharpened points and used them to gut and clean the trout, then hold it over the open fire to spit roast. Not sure if I could wait that long, I plunged back into the river and resumed the hunt.

Four fish later, I clambered back up on to the bank one final time and bounded over to Sam. He was pulling the cooked fish to pieces and laying them on thick green dock leaves. What can I say? Kid's always been resourceful like that.

Tobius was content to gnaw away at raw fish, but then he's a big sushi lover. Now, I eat raw beef, pork, chicken and venison – my mouth waters at just the thought - and at a push I'll eat raw fish... but cooked rainbow trout was guaranteed to have me sitting politely at attention. Hell, I'd roll in a patch of nettles if asked!

This was another thing that had changed for me since my induction into wolf hood. Never was a great fan of fish, always preferred a large juicy burger, and though I'd still happily get stuck, nose-first, in a slab of minced Daisy the Milk Cow, you could always tempt me with slow cooked Flipper.

I knew I was panting, my snout following Sam's every movement, drool an unbecoming mess clumping up my fur, but I just didn't care.

_Come on Sammy I'm hungry!_

I was also well aware that I was whining, pathetic little doggy sounds escaping my throat and I couldn't help it. But if I thought Sam would be repulsed in any way I was so very wrong. He smiled softly, eyes glowing with sweet kindness as he pulled apart the last of the fish. I pawed at the ground, whining a little more, unashamedly using his soft nature to gain more sympathy for my hunger.

_Honestly Dean, _Tobius rolled his eyes and spat out a fishbone. _You're not a bloody Labrador! You're a wolf for heaven's sake, now have some dignity!_

_I'm a growing boy! _I countered with poorly concealed laughter.

He just glared at me in fond exasperation. _You'll still be using that excuse when you turn first century._

Sam shook his head, grinning, and pushed over a dock leaf full of freshly cooked fish. I pounced and quite literally wolfed it down, barely pausing to breathe or chew.

_Yeah, man that fishy didn't stand a chance around me! _I strutted around the campfire, muzzle up, chest out.

_It was dead, you killed it so ya know... whatever dude. _Sam answered with an amused shrug.

But I was still hungry and sniffed around, shoving my snout up close and personal with the remains of Sam's dinner. He'd eaten half and it was a large trout so...

_Hey dude, _I fixed him with my own version of his puppy eyes, head swivelling between him and the cooked fish, and licked my chops with a loud wet smack _You gonna finish that? 'Cos it's a real shame to waste good food..._

Sam started laughing. _Go ahead, help yaself._

Yep, life is good.

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_**Author's notes:**_

**I thought the boys could use a little family downtime, especially in light of what's happened...and **_**with what's coming**_**...**

**Cheers guys.**

**Kind regards,**

**ST xxx **


	9. Chapter 9

**Hunter of the Shadows**

**Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'**

**Chapter 9**

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**Dean's smiling fondly into the firelight, gently rubbing a hand up and down Sam's calves as the kid slept on.**

**"We sure had a lot of fun that day. Sam was coming to accept us, what he'd become, and even Tobius seemed less... _intense_... more like the kind of grandfather the kid deserved." Dean frowns slightly "I don't remember John ever being like that with either of us. Maybe the memory's just faded. Which is kinda why I started this whole video journal thing..." He chuckles sadly with his confession. "I wanna remember everything. Good and bad."**

**His eyes glow a fierce green as he stares directly at the kid sleeping next to him on the couch.**

**"I don't wanna forget a thing."**

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_**Another trip back to the past...**_

It was dusk by the time we returned to the cars and retrieved our clothes; Sam looked tired but happy, and fell asleep in the passenger seat the very second we hit the road. So he hadn't undergone a full change, but he'd practiced a few times on his hands and it no longer freaked him out.

I glanced over at him more than once during the journey and saw him shiver, noticed the way he was scrunched up against the door. I turned the heater on and effortlessly pulled the kid over the seat so he was tucked under my arm.

He didn't even wake up, just snuggled closer with a soft warm sigh.

Can't tell ya how good that felt...

_Dean, we're pulling over for the night. _Tobius informed me. _I just heard on the radio there's heavy traffic ahead. Major pile up, could take 'til dawn to clear. No point trying to get back to the hotel at this stage._

_No problem. _I grinned when Sammy stirred, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

_Guys?_ Sam smothered a yawn. _Where we gonna stay?_

_There's a motel up ahead,_ Tobius replied. _With a fairly decent bar that serves an even better T-bone. _I could feel him grinning at me in his review mirror. _With blue cheese sauce if I remember correctly._

I was practically drooling again at the thought, and Sam chuckled loudly.

"Hungry again, Dean?"

_He's always hungry, _Tobius responded before I could. _Eats me out of house and home! Never known anyone like him!_

Sam's grin softened, eyes a little moist in the dull light of the dashboard. _Yeah, I remember. _

I tightened my arm around him. _Missed you too, kiddo._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dinner was uneventful and relaxing, the steaks superbly grilled, the blue cheese sauce as good as I remembered. We didn't often pass through this way so when we did I always made the most of it; a few beers, couple games of pool, maybe a few turns at darts. Tobius had collected the key to our rooms so there was nothing else to do but relax.

Sam seemed to enjoy himself as we joked about, just like old times, and Tobius was quite happy to sit back and read the local news rag. It occurred to me that, if ever there was a need for Sam and I to pose as brothers, it was in places like this. No way could I pass for Sam's father, given the mere four year age gap, so introducing him to strangers as my little brother made sense; but with that realisation came sadness. I could _never_ introduce him as my son, something that would've made me so damn proud.

_At least __we'll__ know, Dean, that's something to be proud of right?_ Sam was gazing at me with the kind of hero-worship in his eyes that I hadn't seen since he was seven years old.

I smiled and ruffled his hair. _You betcha, kid!_

It was as I put in an order for another beer that I felt a burning sensation in between my shoulder blades, the classic warning sign that someone was watching me, but when I turned round nothing was out of place, no one suspiciously turning their heads away. In fact the bar was virtually empty except for us and bar staff, so anybody trying to spy on us would have had a hard time covering their presence.

_I don't see anyone but someone's here. _Tobius didn't once look up from his newspaper, just rustled the pages a little.

I sniffed the air. _Can't smell them. Outside perhaps?_

_Possibly._

Sam came to stand beside me as he took his shot, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. _Trouble? Should we leave?_

Tobius stood up and stretched, folding the newspaper neatly and leaving it on the table for the next patron. _Now's as good a time as any. Sam, stay between your father and me._

Leaving our beer bottles on the bar and flirting a little with the kindly middle aged waitress, I waited for Sam to grab his jacket then followed him closely to the exit. Tobius held the door open and we strolled out looking for all the world like a family on vacation, though I kept one hand tight on Sam's shoulder. I'd nearly lost my boy once, I wasn't about to risk losing him again. We kept up the pretence until we reached our rooms, then Tobius shuffled inside after us, closing and locking the door.

"I'll stay here for the night, on the couch." Tobius decided and I nodded, more than happy with that plan. He'd obviously booked a room for himself, leaving Sam and I on our own, but if there was indeed a genuine threat then safety in numbers is always our cardinal rule.

Doesn't matter how strong you think you are, or how fast and powerful; silver bullets will always be faster, and all it takes is one.

"Don't worry Sam," Tobius remarked, and I turned to see Sam sitting on the furthest bed, biting his lip nervously. "We have adequate protection here."

The kid nodded but didn't look overly convinced.

"Unless whoever's out there is human. He could be a hunter right? I still haven't changed and that puts us all at risk..."

"Sammy, stop blaming yourself ok?" Sinking down into a crouch in front of him I patted his knee. "It's not your fault. If a hunter comes after us, we'll know." By this point I'd lost count of the number of times he'd needed reassurance but neither of us held it against him. The kid was still so insecure and felt responsible for everything that went wrong. "Now come on, shift over and stop hogging the TV remote."

Sam laughed and moved over to make space, while Tobius took the bed nearest the door. I kept the TV volume at a sensible level – not too loud or too low; no point in arousing suspicion should anyone be listening in. Chances were we'd smell them before they even got close.

"Cool! Lethal Weapon III!" One of my favourites it had to be said. Tobius snorted and pulled a copy of Andy MacNab's Bravo Two Zero from his duffle. I raised an eyebrow; that was a little modern for his usual tastes, normally use to seeing his nose planted firmly in an old classic or some mythology textbook. "SAS huh? You ever considered that sorta thing?"

Tobius didn't look up. _Not only considered it; I had a stint as Commanding Officer of the 22__nd__ Regiment during the sixties._

My other eyebrow shot up in surprise, and even Sam's head swivelled round at yet another stunning revelation.

"What? No! Really?

"No way!" Sam breathed out.

We'd both heard stories about the Special Air Service over the years, and not just from John. One of my favourite films during the eighties had been Who Dares Wins, staring Lewis Collins. I watched it over and over, knew it word for word, and quoted it to the point of driving Sammy insane. I'd read the SAS survival handbook by Lofty Wiseman until I memorised it. John called me a smart ass and wished I'd taken my school studies as seriously, if only to save him from the parent teacher meetings that more often than not were a direct result of my slacking off.

Tobius grinned.

"I trust that morsel of information will stay between us as always."

Thinking about it, Tobius as a leading member of the SAS wasn't really that much of a stretch; he seemed the type: discreet, determined, smart, cunning, and could disappear when needed. He's also the kind of guy you wouldn't want to argue with, though how he kept his werewolf status a secret from his colleagues was a mystery. Guess he had a lot of practice after eight hundred years.

We kept open discussion to a minimum after that. SAS officers, former or otherwise, often didn't like to advertise their presence unless it was a book-signing, and if someone was watching us the last thing we needed was to give them a heads up. Yeah, we could have moved on or turned back, but we'd come a long way and besides, whoever it was would only follow. Under usual circumstances, stalking our assailant would have been fun but we knew next to nothing about them and couldn't afford to take the risk of leaving Sam alone. He was too vulnerable.

More than we knew, in fact.

_SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS_

"Sam? You nearly ready kiddo?" I called, hearing a faint scuffling noise as Sam searched for his other sneaker.

"Yep," A loud thud. "Ow! Sonofabitch!"

I pushed my back into the motel room just as Tobius brought the Cayenne back from a refuelling run. "You ok?"

Sam got to his feet, hopping on one foot and rubbing his head.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Found the damn thing under the bed." He sat down and began tugging the wayward sneaker onto his foot. "We having breakfast before we leave?"

"Sure, here." I handed over thirty bucks and ruffled his hair; it was becoming a habit but he didn't seem to mind. "Go get some coffee and doughnuts from the diner and we'll get under way."

"Chocolate doughnuts?" Sam asked hopefully.

I laughed.

"Yeah, but make sure you get plain for Tobius, ok? And don't take too long!" Sam rolled his eyes and jogged towards the diner.

"Come straight back, no stalling!"

"I won't!"

"And no talking to strangers!"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Except the waitress, you can talk to the waitress, but that's it!"

I watched him the whole way across the parking lot until he disappeared safely inside, then turned to grin at an amused Tobius.

"Don't know where he gets it from."

He snorted with laughter and clapped me affectionately on the back.

"No, I'm sure you don't." He grew strangely serious for a second and eyed me with concern. "How do you feel about all this? I mean, pretending to be brothers. I know how much that hurts."

And he did. Tobius and I could barely pass as father and son either, and people often assumed we were either brothers... or gay – _don't get me started!_

He looked young for his age, and I'm not just talking about the eight hundred years. He often passed himself off as thirty and sometimes managed younger. But I guess he was also talking about the strange looks he would get on introducing a fifteen year old boy as his grandson.

"Yeah, but we've spent most of our lives as blood brothers," I responded with a sad smile. "No real difference now huh?"

But there was a hell of a difference and we both knew it, and we both hoped like hell it wouldn't get Sam hurt.

Tobius gave a nod of understanding. It would be hard but not the end of the world.

For me, the end of the world had come too close to bear already when Sam nearly died. It was strange to think that was only a few days ago now, a little less than a week.

We talked about it for a while longer but only came to the same solution; the three of us would appear as brothers to the world, but inside we knew better.

"Sam should have been back by now," Tobius announced suddenly, and we both swung round to face the diner.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Most people remembered a young teenage boy ordering three decafs and a bag of doughnuts. He'd visited the rest room but, after that, no one paid much attention.

Weapons drawn and ignoring the gasp of fear from our audience, we charged through the rest room door calling his name. Three Styrofoam cups stood by a washbasin along with a paper bag filled with doughnuts of varying size, shape and flavour. But no sign of Sam.

"Sam?" I yelled in panic and began throwing open every cubicle door. "SAMMY!!!"

"Dean, calm down." Tobius sniffed the air and frowned in puzzlement. _Strange scents. Mixtures of..._

He broke off and strode over to a half open window at the back. There was blood on the frame and sill. Whoever had taken him, Sam hadn't made it easy for them. But that was little consolation.

"We'll find him. Sam's own scent is clean and strong, and he can't have gone far."

But he had, dragged against his will. We traced him out into the parking lot of the bar but it was obvious Sam hadn't set foot inside the bar itself. His scent of sweat and weariness was mingled with fear about halfway across the parking lot, and there was something else. It was _more_ than fear.

_Adrenaline... anger... sheer terror..._

I spun around, staring intently into the dark foliage at the edge of the lot. The diner and bar was surrounded by heavy forests, full of looming conifers and riddled with bracken. My nostrils flared, eyes heated and I felt Tobius move up beside me.

_Sam was in pain..._

Another long sniff, the air whistling through our nostrils, revealed a faint metallic tinge to the air, and blood, dark and sticky on the tarmac.

_Silver..._

_Sammy... __Oh Christ!_

Tobius moved round in a circle, still sniffing intently. _Human hunter perhaps but..._ another deep sniff, and he shook his head in frustration. _Not getting much, mainly just Sam. We may have come across this one before but it's hard to be certain; so much damn silver in the air._ He frowned again, head tilted to the side, eyes following something on the ground. _You also smell that? Lean closer._

I ducked down to a crouch; nose extended and sniffed carefully, then reeled back in disgust, nearly dropping on my ass. _Bastard tried to chloroform him but some got spilt._

Tobius nodded, eyes narrowed. _Yes. Your son put up quite the fierce fight before he succumbed._

The pungent, sickly odour was still easy to follow. Too damn easy and it became obvious this was a trap. By unspoken agreement we headed deeper into the undergrowth surrounding the parking lot, shed our clothes and folded them neatly in a pile under a low hanging branch. We didn't stop moving just changed as we went, and to an outsider we might have looked like the seven ages of man in reverse.

Another two hours of tracking and Sam's scent was getting stronger. His pain and fear pulled at my heart the closer we got until it became unbearable.

_You feel him._ Tobius whispered in my head.

_Yeah... _I lifted my muzzle and whined quietly, conveying my distress. _He's been hurt, badly... can't stand it..._

_Hush boy. _Father appeared to be listening, so I obeyed without question and followed his lead. The forest would have been quiet as the grave to a human ear but what _I_ heard had me stalking up and down, anxiously waiting for the order to proceed. And when it came; soft, muffled whimpers of pain and torment, my heart pounded with worry.

_Father please! I have to go to him!_

His ears twitched.

_Go on ahead. Your son isn't far but be vigilant. There's trouble here..._

Tobius sniffed the air again, snorting with disgust. I didn't need to be told twice and took off after Sam. The bitter twang of silver was so strong by now that the air was thick with it. But Sam was easy to find just following his sounds in my head and as soon as I laid eyes on him I was changing, the process harder, faster and more painful than I'd ever known it before.

He was tightly gagged, lying on his stomach, head turned towards me and surrounded by a pool of grey vomit. His wrists were secured behind him and scraped raw by the gleaming manacles. Further metal cuffs encased his ankles just visible under his jeans, but it was the matching collar round his neck that stopped me cold. A thick sturdy chain ran from a padlock on the collar and stretched away high up into the boughs of a tall pine tree.

"Sammy?" I whispered loudly and dropped to my knees beside him just as he sluggishly opened his eyes. Gently untying the gag, I noted the heavy bruising to his face, the large beads of sweat on his forehead, and struggled to keep from losing it.

_Sam? Can you hear me? _He flinched when I reached for the collar. _It's ok. It's just me, Dean._

But he whimpered and tried to shift away again. It hurt deep inside that he was so out of it he didn't even know me, until I heard him, finally.

"D-Dean, don't t-touch it... s-silver..._"_

Frowning, stomach churning, I touched the manacles and quickly withdrew my hand, hissing in pain. My fingers looked like they'd been badly scalded. And that explained more than I wanted to imagine. Sam's wrists weren't abraded from struggling, they were fucking _burnt!_ A closer look at his neck, imprisoned in the thick collar, revealed similar lesions, only worse.

Much worse.

_Oh Sammy..._

It explained the stench of silver, so strong it was damn nigh on impossible to tell where it was coming from. Fortunately, the chain that kept Sam tied up like a dog _wasn't _silver; one quick tug and it fell to pieces. Yeah, this was a trap all right.

"Gonna getcha out of here, Sam," I muttered aloud as I scooped the kid into my arms, and barely stifled a gasp at the sight of so much blood on his shirt. "We'll get that damn silver off ya soon as we're safe."

"And that ain't happening any time soon," a calm, deep voice spoke up behind us and I turned slowly, keeping Sam shielded from the stranger as he stepped into view.

Tall, dark skinned, dressed in jeans and a blue plaid shirt he stared at us as though we were some kind of science project... which we were and he was _no_ stranger to me.

_He was Gordon Fucking Walker._

The sudden smile was blinding.

"Couldn't believe my luck when I saw you guys in the bar... and then I saw _him_," Gordon tried to see round me but I tugged Sam closer, tucking his head against my shoulder. "A young werewolf, not even undergone his first change. Quite the prize." He tapped his nose and winked. "I can tell. Been hunting things like you most of my life. That was pretty careless of you, letting him out of your sight like that. I figured his daddy would come looking for him, and I could have myself a _real_ hunt." Another quick smile. "What ya say... _Dean?_"

_What?_ We knew his name well enough; he'd introduced himself to us right before he stuck his silver blade in Tobius, but I'm damn sure I never told him _my_ name.

Gordon stepped a little closer and my eyes widened when he began a running biography of my life.

"Dean Winchester, bitten and turned. And Sammy here... didn't care too much for silver." His brown eyes gleamed with mad excitement. "Ran into John some months back in a bar; he's usually pretty closed mouth, but not _that_ night, Dean. He was real talkative. Told me you were dead, that young Sammy killed his own brother with silver bullets."

I felt Sam stir and give out a faint whimper.

_Ssshhh it's ok._

"Where is he, by the way?" Gordon glanced around in an overly dramatic gesture and I could tell from the hugely smug grin he already knew John Winchester's fate.

_S-sorry Dean... _I slowly lowered my gaze to Sam in disbelief.

"You fucking _told_ him?"

The kid just blinked up at me, tears filling his tired eyes.

"Oh, don't blame the pup," Gordon nodded congenially as he twirled a small blade expertly between his fingers. "I can be _very_ persuasive."

Sam turned his head away in shame.

"Ya see, silver _can_ initiate a change, Dean," Gordon kept up that hypnotic twirling, metal catching the light every now and then. "But only in those who've changed already. The younger ones however..." He tipped his head at Sam and I understood.

Silver can trigger a change in the experienced werewolf, acting like a real painful catalyst, but in someone like Sam it can prevent or halt it, causing horrendous pain and suffering. But judging by the steadily growing blood on Sam's shirt that wasn't all he'd had to deal with.

Gently gripping the material, I raised the hem of Sam's tee-shirt.

_Oh Christ!_ His abdomen was criss-crossed with deep cuts and gashes, blood still oozing from each one, unable to heal with all that silver surrounding him. Gordon hadn't been content with imprisoning Sam in the lethal stuff; he'd _tortured_ the poor kid with it.

The blade in Gordon's hand caught the light again.

"You fucking bastard!" I roared, blood boiling with rage. Sammy flinched in my arms and tried to struggle away but I held him still. "I'm gonna rip you to pieces for this!"

But Gordon didn't seem too worried by my threats and I soon found out why.

"Now, now, Dean. I pretty much know everything there is to know about Wolf lore. And when Sam told me you bit him? I knew _exactly_ what he'd become, what he means to you now."

A stunned silence dropped like a stone and I tried to subtly sniff the air, searching for my father but the stench of silver cloaked everything.

"I don't care what you _think_ you know about us, but there'll be no hunt, Gordon." I snarled. "Just you, heart and throat ripped out, me and Sam walking out of here."

"I'd take a closer look at that collar first if I were you Dean." Gordon broke in quietly.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

**So what about the collar? What's so special about it and what's it significance? See you soon with the answers.**

**Kind regards,**

**ST xxx **


	10. Chapter 10

**Hunter of the Shadows**

**Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'**

**Chapter 10**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

**"Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still see that damn collar." Dean pours some hot water from a kettle into a large stoneware mug and stirs quietly. "The colour of Sam's face, the blood..." He shakes his head in despair and falls silent for a long moment then gets to work.**

**"Still don't know what I was thinking that day, letting him go into that diner alone. I guess, even for werewolves, daylight brings a false sense of security. And I really thought he'd be safe in a public place." He pauses with a brief scowl. "But Gordon was more daring... more _skilled _than we thought."**

**Dean's obviously moved the camera into the kitchen area of the cabin. And now he's busy rummaging through a cooler, pulling out packs of dark red meat, possibly venison steaks. It's clear he's been here before because he's as familiar with the kitchen as he is with the Impala, turning on the gas stove and preparing the skillet, grabbing various seasonings from a cupboard over the freezer.**

**His face bears evidence of just how much strain and worry he's been under recently, and some might question the wisdom of talking about an obviously stressful past at this stage, but Dean continues on doggedly.**

**"Sammy needs to feed on fresh meat but I don't wanna..." He's having trouble getting the words out and he suddenly slams a hand down hard on the pine chopping board in frustration. "I'm just not _ready_ to leave him on his own yet. Not to hunt." He's shaking his head again, but this time he's talking to himself rather than the digital audience sitting by the sink, talking about events the lens isn't yet privy to. "Not tonight."**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Another stroll down memory lane...**_

I stilled as my eyes shot to Sam's neck. The kid was still cringing, and whimpered loudly when I rolled him over to examine the collar carefully.

"Jesus!"

My attention was briefly diverted by Sam's fingers flexing helplessly round the cuffs and I spotted the same technique had been employed on his wrists. The inside of the metal contained tiny spikes about a half inch apart that punctured the skin. I wasn't sure of the significance of that but it didn't look good and had to be causing Sam some serious fucking pain.

But that wasn't the only problem.

The collar and cuffs didn't have a locking mechanism; they'd been sealed so neatly I couldn't find the join. There wasn't a mark that suggested they'd been welded closed either, so that just left...

"Yep." Gordon smiled, _actually smiled_ at me. "Nothing like a little charm."

I growled angrily. I've seen some shitty torture devices over the years but this had to rank amongst the sickest and most degrading of all.

_M'so... sorry Dean. I-I tr-tried... b-but it hurts... sooo bad!_

_Ssshhh Sammy, just breathe for me ok? Remember what Tobius taught you... breathe through it and try to relax._ I gently rolled him back over into my arms and stared him straight in the eye. _This ain't your fault ok?_

But Gordon wasn't about to give us any time to ourselves. Guy definitely liked the sound of his own voice.

"Now, I'm sure Tobius – your _Sire_" he spat the word "could tell you all about that pretty jewellery your _son_ is wearing." Gordon sneered, then cast an almost sad glance at Sam. "Sam is being poisoned by silver, slowly, oh so painfully, as it makes its way through his bloodstream in timed, measured doses. And it won't stop Dean, not 'til it reaches his heart. Sam'll be completely paralysed by then but he'll feel it all. So," he raised an eyebrow "you wanna keep talking, wasting time? Or how 'bout we get to the hunt?"

I tried to stall him, to give Tobius the right opportunity.

"What happens to Sam if you win?"

The guy shrugged.

"You die, I get to keep Sammy, use him as bait for other werewolves."

And that meant a painful existence, being kept weak, unable to change or defend himself. Probably a lifetime spent being poisoned with silver in just enough dosage to keep him close to death without ever going over the edge, without ever finding peace. It would drive him slowly insane until there was nothing left of his humanity, and that would give his human master an excuse to finally execute him. Not that Gordon needed an excuse.

I got to my feet and stepped forward, clutching Sam tight with fear and fury.

"And if _I_ win Gordon? What then?" This was the catch, _had_ to be.

He stared at me pointedly.

"_If_ you ain't stupid enough to kill me, I'll give you the release spell for Sam." Gordon straightened up. "We go our separate ways." He snarled suddenly, a complete change from the almost cool indifference he'd shown so far. "For now. But I'll find you. John Winchester was a good man and a fine hunter. You'll be hunted all your lives; I'll see to it that you pay for his death."

Huh. Kinda figured the bastard would be on John's side.

"Don't think for a second that killing me anyway will be the end." Gordon continued softly. "Other hunters are out there, already _know_ what you did. And I'm sure Tobius is here somewhere just waiting for his chance to strike..." He gave out a loud grunt and went down in the undergrowth.

"Correct!" Called out a naked Tobius standing over him looking smug and furious all at the same time.

To his credit, Gordon recovered quickly and flipped back onto his feet, gracefully tossing the knife from palm to palm as wolf and man circled each other menacingly.

"Gotta say, I'm impressed!" Gordon grinned. "Most werewolves ain't so bold... unless they've turned _man-eater_."

Tobius merely stared him down coldly.

"I'm curious; the only way in is the path Dean took." Gordon _did_ sound genuinely interested. "How did you get passed all the silver traps?"

Tobius still refused to answer, just sneered at him, all pride and arrogance.

"Dean? Get Sam to the car, keep him warm and give him plenty of water." Ever so slowly, just for effect, Tobius' teeth lengthened, nose elongated, claws extended. "Mr Walker and I have a few things to discuss."

I'd seen him do this before. It's like a werewolf war dance, an intimidation tactic and it's pretty powerful, kinda like that thing the New Zealand All Blacks do before the start of a rugby match? Only Tobius ain't so vocal about it.

Sam was my biggest priority and worry right now. He was very sick and badly injured, and I only hoped Father would get the spell out of Gordon before it was too late. The poor kid whimpered in pain and fear, shivering with cold and I cradled him even closer.

"Ssshhh, Sammy. We're going now." I shifted, pressed his face into my neck, and with one last vicious scowl at Gordon, turned away.

Heading back to the car was tough going on Sam; even the slightest jolt was agony, though I held him tightly in my arms, trying to shield him from the worst. I could hear his heavy breathing, feel the way he held his body tighter than a high wire. He must have been biting clean through his tongue to keep from screaming out but fortunately the return journey didn't take nearly as long as the original rescue mission, and I soon found my clothes. Laying the boy down for a few hasty seconds, I yanked on my jeans, shirt and boots then stumbled from the undergrowth with Sam barely conscious in my arms.

_D-Deeaann...c-can't mooove...hurts...s-siillver...para-paraaalysisss...pleeease...h-help meee..._

He was breaking my heart, his thoughts in my head so weak and lost.

"We're gonna help you Sammy, just try and stay calm for me, ok? Can you do that, kiddo?"

'_Kaaaay Dean._

"Good boy."

The Impala was a welcome sight and I sighed heavily with relief. Loading Sam into the rear seat, I immediately tried to remove the restraints. Silver is a fairly soft metal so it should have been easy, but guess what... the damn stuff had been hardened, probably in some kind of heating process using a tougher, harder metal to reinforce the silver.

My fingers singed on the collar and I growled, fighting my body's instinct to change. It was time to improvise. I needed protection; cloth... and started tearing off my button down, wrapping it round my right hand, noting with despair how Sam's eyelids fluttered weakly, only the whites of his eyes visible.

"Stay with me Sam, don't give up now!"

He didn't even get a chance to warn me; his mouth suddenly gaped open and liquid silver vomit erupted, spilling down his chin and over the seat.

The other passenger door ripped open to reveal an extremely worried, fully dressed and pissed off Tobius.

"Severe silver poisoning will do that; his body's trying to purge," he eyed the restraints. "I've not seen anything this barbaric in over three hundred years."

I was still tugging at the collar.

"It's been toughened; I can't get him free." There was panic in my tone but Sam had completely lost consciousness by now in any case. "Tell me you got the release spell."

Tobius pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not sure I trust Gordon's word on this. It might make things worse."

"Tobius _please..._" I'd never heard my voice sound so lost and desperate. "How much worse could it get? Sam's _dying_! Ya hear me? He's fucking dying - _again_!"

He nodded.

"Very well." Took a deep breath "_Anaskasu__pa__tu_!"

I have no idea what the hell that was, or what it was suppose to be, but that was of no concern right then because Sam's eyes flew open in panic at the sound of a loud metallic grating noise. The collar suddenly shrunk round his neck, choking him.

"Shit! Oh _fuck_ no!" Call it a case of poor judgment, the fact was I'd panicked and made Sam's situation a damn sight harder.

Tobius stared at Sam's collar. Then his eyes lit up as if he remembered something.

"There's a set of bolt cutters in the Cayenne." He jerked his chin in that direction without shifting his eyes.

I scrambled from the Impala, raced over to the Porsche and wrenched open the rear door. Rummaging around in the tool kit, I finally laid hands on the sturdy iron bolt cutters.

Tobius grabbed them the second I passed them through the rear passenger door and got to work. Somehow he managed to slide the blades between the metal and Sam's skin; the muscles on his arms were bulging as he gripped the cutters and pushed.

Sam choked out a whimper of pain, now completely immobile which served as a blessing. Any movement on his part would have been dangerous at this stage. Sweat poured off Sire as he increased the pressure, and the blades finally began to make some headway through the collar. Tobius grunted, then suddenly roared, gave the cutters a sharp twist and a loud _crack!_ startled us as the collar tore apart, and my wrapped hands gently pulled the pieces away from Sam's neck, wincing at the array of bloodied holes in his tender flesh.

Sam began keening low in his throat as Tobius started on the boy's wrists. The blades squeaked and crunched, bending the hardened silver and Sam's body jerked harshly when they nicked his skin. But it was unavoidable given how tightly he was cuffed.

Cold dread invaded my heart as dazed eyes stared up at me; Sam's irises were turning silver, a dull glimmer against the black.

"Father, look at his eyes!"

He paused to observe briefly then his actions once again became frantic.

"The silver's paralysed him and now it will claim his sight."

"Hurry for God's sake!"

We soon had his wrists, then his ankles free and Tobius was leaping behind the wheel, the Impala's engine roaring as we peeled out of the parking lot. Once again abandoning another rental.

I stayed in the rear seat holding on to Sam. More liquid metal spilled from his mouth as he gasped and choked. Poor kid's mouth had to be burning, 'cos the damn stuff sure singed my arm on contact. Keeping my hands tightly wrapped in the shirt, I wiped it off the seat and into the foot well.

"Easy Sam," I watched him anxiously, rolling him back onto his side and pulling him close, then glanced up to meet Tobius' anxious gaze in the review mirror. "He's going to be ok now, right? Sam will heal..."

Tobius was already shaking his head with remorse.

"There's a lot more we need to do. Still too much silver in his blood."

"So how do we help him?" I asked fearfully. "How do we get it out of him?"

Tobius stared at the road ahead.

"We bleed him dry."

And, shocking though the answer was, it made perfect sense. Essentially it was a crude transfusion process to cleanse the silver from Sam's body. Chances were the cardiac muscle would soon be under attack, but Sam's young heart was otherwise strong, fighting it off, though it wouldn't be long before that, too, was overcome by paralysis.

In other words, cardiac arrest.

Game over.

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I was dead against it, fearing Sam wouldn't survive the journey, but Tobius insisted on getting back to the rooms at his hotel where he had access to most of the essential equipment needed for the transfusion.

Sam's body continued to purge the liquid silver, some running down his face as tears, singeing his skin, and the poor kid retched painfully. His eyes were now completely silver, total blindness setting in; he was panicking, getting weaker, unable to see or move, and I could feel him losing heart.

_Sammy don't give up, __please__ don't give up on me._

He could no longer answer my thoughts and the only sign he was even alive the weak, thready pulse at his neck and the slowing breaths.

"Tobius, how long's he got?"

He didn't answer, just put his foot down. The Impala leapt forward with an eager growl and the miles slipped by as I held my dying son close, silently begging him to keep fighting. But there was a pressing question that needed an answer.

"So what about Gordon? Is he dead?"

Tobius glanced at me briefly in the review mirror.

"No."

I glared at him when that seemed all he had to say on the matter.

"We're going after him right? I mean, you heard what he said, he'll come after _us_ some day."

"He will indeed." Tobius answered. "But we won't be going after him until we're ready, Dean. And Sam..." He took a breath. "The pup needs to change before anything else. We have no choice now."

There was something in his voice; I'd never heard him sound like this, so... _concerned_. Not much frightened Tobius Le Salle; he'd been alive too damn long.

"What aren't you telling me?" I eyed him warily.

He sighed.

"Later. There's time for that much later."

"_Tobius!_" I hissed in response, making it damn clear what I thought about all the cryptics.

Tobius tutted softly and shook his head. He was quiet so long I didn't think he was going to answer.

"There was something... _different_... about Gordon this time around." Tobius cast me worried look in the mirror. "He was stronger than before, _faster_... and yet..." Tobius trailed off, frowning.

"What?" I wanted to throttle it out of him but I'm pretty sure that wouldn't have worked. "Was he possessed? A turned werewolf? _What?_"

Tobius shook his head again, more certain this time.

"No. He smelled human and he could touch silver. There was nothing to suggest he was possessed either." His grin was cold, more of a snarl than anything. "Demons tend to boast of their achievements rather than hide them; modesty isn't their strongest suit."

Yeah, the black eyed bastards sure do love to gloat, but that gave rise to a nasty suspicion and I felt the tiny hairs on my neck stand on end.

"You don't mean... vampire?" I gave out a short nervous laugh, but up went my eyebrows when he didn't answer. "But you said he smelled human right? Surely vamps wouldn't smell human?"

"I just don't know." Tobius scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration, still keeping an eye on the road. "But it's the only other thing I can think of right now."

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We made it back in record time. It amazed me somehow; the amount of times we'd visited our place of R&R and I never once knew Tobius owned a luxurious hotel not much further than a day's ride away. Luckily for us we were much closer than that by the time Gordon kidnapped Sam from the diner.

Whilst I took Sam up the fire escape for the second time that week, Tobius parked up and made some phone calls.

I tucked Sam up in bed and tried to force feed him cold water but the kid's natural swallowing reflex was completely screwed. I couldn't tell if he was even conscious, the paralysis so advanced Sam was now cut off from the outside world with no way to communicate. He just lay limp and unmoving, skin freezing cold, breathing laboured and stuttering. I tried so hard to stay calm, to keep the despair from consuming me, but it was an impossible task.

I was startled out of my bedside vigil when Tobius laid a hand on my shoulder. _Let's get started._

I nodded.

_What do you want me to do?_

_I want you to not freak out._

I smiled shakily.

_Tall order dude._

Tobius returned it with an understanding one of his own.

By the time we finished setting up the equipment, our bedroom looked like a mini science lab, with a portable Bunsen burner, and strange chemicals bubbling away merrily in glass tubes.

Tobius was using a pestle and mortar to grind up some strange smelling leaves and emulsified it with olive oil. With the addition of a little saline, he did something altogether complicated and scientific looking with the weird concoction, involving some kind of distillation step, then left out a sterile syringe and needle.

_It's a natural chelating agent with an affinity for silver. It should help mop up the rest of the silver ions in Sam's system once his blood is replaced. No point using it now; there's too much silver for the agent to work effectively. It's at saturation levels._

I had no idea what he was talking about and didn't care so long as it worked.

_I would normally use it on less severe injuries involving bullet and blade wounds, but I figured it couldn't hurt to try._ His comforting thoughts droned on, offering peace and solace, the overall tone confident and hopeful.

_Werewolf metabolism is far more complicated than that of humans._

Clay bowls were placed under Sam's hands and one on stand-by for his neck.

_Technically we can't die of blood loss because we have a back-up system in place, but it does leave us weakened and unable to fight. And therein lays the danger._

The hunting blade was sharpened and washed in rock salt saline, then doused in ethanol and heated until the metal turned white. The cooling knife was washed one final time in the saline before Tobius leaned over and placed the sharp edge to the ravaged skin of Sam's wrist, slicing deep and swift. All the while he continued the science lecture.

_The best way to describe it: in a human that back-up is called the endocrine system. Though it's not quite the same, ours works in a similar manner and involves the synthesis, transportation and action of specialist hormones. In humans the structures and functions of these hormones are somewhat different to ours and work in very different ways, therefore the endocrine system isn't the best analogy, but it's the closest I can get._

Sam didn't make a sound nor did he flinch, and that made me even more anxious. The blood that pulsed into the clay bowl wasn't dark red, more of a pale grey-pink and the smell of silver filled the room. Tobius threw open the balcony doors allowing some of the air to clear, then went to work on Sam's other wrist.

"Do you want to do this next part?" Tobius raised a worried eyebrow and held out the blade. I virtually gulped at the thought. I trusted him but understood what he was implying: this was personal, between father and son. Taking the knife in a shaky hand I pressed the blade to Sam's jugular. Drawing in a deep breath and silently reminding myself that this was to _save his life_, I drew the blade across. This time Sam gasped and choked but the blood free flowed down his neck, soaking the pillow, and filling the third bowl.

"What now?" I asked sadly.

"We wait, drain him completely," came the soft reply. "Then give him some of our blood to help kick start his system into producing his own."

It wasn't really the answer I was looking for, and I think he knew that. Were we too late? Would Sam get his sight back? What about permanent damage? I guess only time would tell.

And boy did it take a lot of time. Sam was a terrible blue-grey colour by the time most of his blood was removed and the transfusion due to begin. After bandaging the wounds on Sam's wrists and neck, Tobius injected a hefty dose of the chelating agent and we were good to go. I lay next to him on the bed, left arm out straight, hand squeezing a small rubber ball to keep my blood pumping. Tobius kept me talking, about our plans to help Sam with his first change, our next vacation, Sam's training, _anything, _just gently steering me away from any attempts to talk about Gordon. He had his reasons and I knew that he'd tell me eventually, but it didn't stop the frustration piling up.

Half way through I became dizzy and listless, and he left the room, quickly returning with some chopped raw steak which I hungrily chewed my way through and washed it down with a glass of creamy milk. While I was busy feeding, Tobius checked Sam's eyes. The news was good so far; the whites were returning to normal, the black band around the irises thickening.

"Though the irises and pupils are still silver I'm willing to bet if Sam was conscious he would have some limited sight back."

Sam didn't stir once, not even after the third unit and Tobius insisted that was enough for now. It was his turn. While he took my place on the bed and hooked himself up, I sank back into the armchair he'd drawn up by the nightstand, and stroked Sam's hair. The knife wounds were beginning to slowly heal, filling my heart and soul with relief. He still felt so cold, yet there was a thin sheen of perspiration across his cheeks and forehead.

"That's a good sign it's working, and that Sam's giving it all he's got." Sire whispered gently. "Now get some sleep my son."

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_**Author's notes:**_

**As we can see, Dean is no longer merely using the video journal as a tool to record the events in his and Sam's lives; he's also using it as a sounding board, much like talking to himself in the mirror. A kind of self-help therapy, though I think he'd fix me with _that look_ if he ever heard me say it out loud.**

**Dean Winchester and 'therapy', don't really go together very well in the same sentence, eh?**

**On the note about the Rugby, given that Tobius was born in France and spent a good deal of his long life in England, I'm assuming he's more of a fan of Rugby than, say, American football. Therefore, it's conceivable he's spoken to Dean about it at some stage.**

**The New Zealand All Blacks, who first competed in 1884 (so, been around a long time then!) are famous for the _Haka_ (Maori dance) they perform at the start of the match. It's reputed to centre their strengths and focus their mind , "drawing vital energy into the heart and lungs.", but personally I think they do it just to scare the living shit out of their opponents. It must work, 'cos they rarely lose a match, and, frankly, it scares the crap out of _me!_ LOL!**

**Also thought it was a nice touch, given that Supernatural is filmed in Canada. The Canadian national rugby union is just as famous in its own right.**

**Kind regards,**

**ST xxx**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hunter of the Shadows**

**Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'**

**Chapter 11**

**WARNING: ultimate cuteness lies ahead. May make you go all silly.**

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**It's foggy.**

**The sound of water moving, sloshing about, and something's being banged lightly against... something else.**

**Then,**

**"Oh shit! Sorry!" Something that looks like a washcloth wipes the fog away to reveal a relaxed looking Dean, wallowing in the bath.**

**There's _bubbles_. Everywhere, including on Dean's head, ears, chin, and a small splodge on his nose.**

**He's grinning widely, possibly for the first time in days.**

**"Gotta love a hot bath, huh? I used to prefer showers, but _man_ these are good!" A waggle of the eyebrows suggests his reasons aren't all that innocent.**

**A loud snort, followed by a snuffling from the next room, and Dean rolls his eyes.**

**"Jeez, that kid could snore for Kansas!" he mutters, and closes his eyes in bliss, the large back-scrubber held over a shoulder by his right hand, and his other hand pours soapy water over an impressive set of pecks, hard muscles gleaming in the soft bathroom light.**

**"So, as I was saying..."**

**And many a woman might be impressed at the guy's ability to multi-task, but not without going blind with lust.**

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_**Back in the past...**_

To my surprise, I did manage to sleep, and woke up a couple of hours later feeling groggy and cold. The balcony windows were still open and the smell of silver had definitely dissipated. Tobius was nowhere in sight though I could hear him rummaging around in the kitchen.

Sam looked terrible, sweat pouring down his pale face and saturating the sheets. Occasionally his eyes would open, flashing silver-blue-green, glowing like tiny LEDs as his head thrashed from side to side. Sam's eyes were clearing and the paralysis was releasing its hold on him, but he was obviously still in a lot of pain; small whimpers rising and falling in volume, between feverish groaning and muttering. Looking back, I think Sam was also suffering some quite vivid hallucinations at the time, though now he doesn't remember much about it. He called out for John once or twice, but when he started screaming out my name, begging me to come home, to come back to him, I honestly thought my heart was falling to pieces. No amount of reassurance or comfort was getting through; the kid was locked down too tightly in his delirium. All I could do was climb onto the bed and hold him, hoping like hell this wouldn't last too long.

Another few hours and I realised I could hear his thoughts, fluttering weakly on the surface of his consciousness.

_Dean... Deeeaannnnn!!!!_

_Ssshhh Sammy. I'm here._

_Don't go... please... don't leave me again... I'll be good I promise... just don't go..._

_Not leaving ya, kiddo. Never leaving you._

That was good news, the best we'd had all day. The sun was sliding down the sky and evening was soon upon us, turning the horizon beyond the window a warm red that reflected off Sam's face and gave him a healthy glow. It wasn't real, at least not yet. Sam had a long way to go before he truly recovered, if our experiences with Tobius' own silver wound were anything to go by.

In fact, it took several more days before Sam regained consciousness enough to talk, but only for limited periods. He exhausted easily and spent most of his time sleeping.

"I've brought him some beef broth," Tobius approached the bed with a tray holding a large bowl that steamed, and the aroma made my mouth water. "Try to get him to eat some; he needs the iron."

With a small smile and a nod I tried to wake the kid up.

"Sammy? Come on, time to eat something."

"Hmmm?" An eye cracked open, the pupil still that weird faded silver but at least he could make out blurred shapes and shadows. "Wha...?"

"Food." I tapped his cheek when it looked like he was about to drift off again. "Now kiddo, before it gets cold."

"'Kay." Sam struggled into a sitting position with my help and leaned heavily on the headboard.

It was Sam's first real solid meal since Gordon abducted him, and I worried it might make him sick. But the broth actually slipped down easy for him and helped settle his stomach. He didn't seem to mind me feeding him like a baby, he probably didn't really notice or understand and was too hungry by that point anyhow. You can imagine our relief that he was actually eating at last, even enjoying the food and asking for some bread, but he only made it halfway through the bowl before exhaustion caught up, and Tobius saved him from landing face down in the hot broth.

The paralysis took longer to dissipate completely, lingering for some time in his lower body, and it was weeks before his eyesight was fully restored. Sam had to suffer a lot of indignities during that time; carried around until he could move his legs, being bathed by either myself or his grandfather, spoon fed broth or soup until he was ready to consume solid food. And the part that made me so damn proud?

He didn't complain once. Sam was in pain most of the time but never mentioned it; only the set of his mouth and the strain around his eyes gave it away. On a bad day his eyes glowed a strange red-blue-purple colour, the light pulsing and throbbing as his body continued the readjustment. Tobius relented on the pain killers mainly because Sam's metabolism had been affected so harshly by the silver that he was going through something akin to withdrawal.

All this took me back to when Sam was a baby, but even I couldn't bring myself to tell him that; he would have been mortified. In a way it was kinda cool that I'd looked after him when he was so little, reminding me that, in many ways, I hadn't missed out on _all_ the fatherly duties. Not at all, in fact.

It meant that Sam was one hundred percent _mine_.

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_I'm sorry Dean._

I glanced up from the TV to find Sam watching me from the bed. He could see well enough but only in black and white, and he couldn't stand on his own two feet yet, tired easily, and often needed support to sit up properly at meal times.

_What the hell you got to be sorry for?_ I frowned at him, my mind a complete blank.

_For telling Gordon about... well... you know..._

He shrugged and looked away.

Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that.

_The bastard tortured you, Sammy, he didn't give you a choice. It wasn't your fault._ But I had an apology of my own to make. _And I'm sorry I yelled at you. Had no right to do that, not when you were so sick._

_Sam, look at me?_

He clearly didn't want to so I got up and sat on the edge of his bed.

"You were delirious, poisoned and badly injured." Running a hand through his hair, I gently tugged his head round to face me. "It's ok. I'm just glad you're alive and getting stronger each day. S'all I care about, dude."

He blinked at me and let out a small gasp.

"Sam? You ok?" Frantically searching his face to find the source of trouble, I could feel my worry levels kick in again. "Sammy?"

"I..." He shook his head then suddenly cried out, face scrunching up in pain.

_Dean... my hands..._

His hands were no longer... hands. Claws sprang out, black spongy pads forming behind them and dark red fur had already grown. Sam stared at them, held out in front of him, and began hyperventilating.

_Oh God! Dean! Help me!_

_Easy Sammy!_

He was changing. I couldn't tell you why, but I just knew this would be his first full change. My baby boy was finally going to do it! You can't imagine how proud I felt, but now wasn't the time for celebrations, not when Sam was freaking out.

_Breathe deep and slow, stay calm and just let go._

I sat back, pulling the covers with me, and began helping him out of his PJs.

_It's gonna be fine Sam. Just relax your muscles like we told you._

"Dean? Everything ok in here?" Tobius halted just inside the doorway, a small grin forming. "Is he...?"

I nodded.

"His hands went just now, like..." I snapped my fingers "Poof! Like a rabbit from a magician's hat."

_Not helping Dean!_

Sam's nose gave a sudden _pop!_ and sprouted outwards, and he yelped loudly. Tobius and I had a hard time not laughing as Sam went cross-eyed trying to stare down at his newly formed snout.

"Oh God... oh no... ohnonononono... _SHHHHHIIIIITTTT!!!!!_"

Next thing we knew, a young, half-grown puppy with soft chestnut coloured fur sticking up in all directions, and a decidedly mournful expression on its little face was staring up at us from the bed. Head tilted to one side, familiar blue-green eyes glowed brightly and a long pink tongue hung out beneath his black wet nose, as he panted softly.

"Sammy, you... you..." In truth, Sam looked completely and utterly adorable.

_Don't you fucking __**dare**__ say it! _

Even Tobius was taken aback by the sheer force behind that thought. He cleared his throat and gave me a quick glare, a warning to not make fun of the little guy.

_How do you feel Sam?_

The pup rose on shaky legs then slumped back down.

_Weak, but otherwise ok I guess._ Sam huffed miserably through his muzzle and fixed me with the patented Sam Winchester Puppy Dog EyesTM.

_How do I look?_ And he seemed genuinely worried about it. _I don't look stupid do I?_

_No Sammy, anything but. You look just as you're supposed to._ I couldn't resist it and reached out a hand to stroke his soft silky ears, almost expecting him to snap at me for the unwanted intrusion on his personal space, but instead he leaned into the touch then shuffled over to me on his tiny butt, shaggy tail wagging nineteen to the dozen, and curled up on my lap.

_Thanks Dean._ Sam sounded better already.

_I hate to break this up but Sam's needs a thorough medical. _Sam tilted his head towards Tobius inquiringly. His grandfather smiled, placing a hand under Sam's muzzle. _As much as I am very pleased and highly relieved youngster, you're still sick and I want to make sure you're ok._

Sam responded by swiping his tongue up Tobius' nose, and the older werewolf chuckled loudly.

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He really gave Sam the works, checking his eyes, which were completely clear, his nose, teeth, ears, heartbeat, and, to Sam's fury...

_Nuhuh!_ Sam squirmed in his grandfather's grasped, small teeth nipping gently as he tried to escape. _You are NOT shoving that thing in my ass!_

"I just want to check your temperature," Tobius stated reasonably, but I could tell he was trying not to laugh. "Now, raise your tail youngster... really, Sam. Even your father didn't whine this much."

He grinned at my malevolent glare. Bastard!

_No way!_ Sam tried to make a break for it, but still being weak from the poisoning, combined with four legs he wasn't used to, had him almost pitching head first off the bed. I caught him easily before he could cause any more damage, and gently dumped the pup back down on the mattress.

Tobius and I smirked as I held him still between us. Sam actually clenched his eyes shut and grimaced, his small body quivering with embarrassment.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Well, all I can say is that your body got fed up with waiting, and made the decision for you." Tobius packed away the stethoscope then wrapped Sam up in a big hug, the surprised pup burying a cold wet nose in his grandfather's neck. "The minute the silver was finally out of your system, the process began, preparing you for the change."

_So, I'm gonna get stronger right? I'm getting sick and tired of being sick!_

I laughed and gave his soft tail a gentle tug.

"You'll be fine _Sammydawg_." That earned me a powerful glare that just looked so damned comical on a puppy. "You wanna look in the mirror, Sam? See what you look like?"

Tobius set him back on the bed and the youngster's head drooped, pointy ears twitching slightly.

_Uh... not sure I'm ready for that yet._

I studied him for a moment. There goes that self-confidence issue raising its ugly head again.

"Tell you what, how 'bout I change and we _both_ look in the mirror together huh?" Maybe seeing what he'd look like when he'd fully grown would help. At least that was the theory.

Sam looked undecided, and it amazed me just how expressive he was even in this form.

"Could be fun, ya know." I leaned over and put an arm round him, pulling him close. "I can help you get used to walking on four legs."

He still didn't look convinced but he went with it anyhow, and whilst I was busy changing Tobius left the room, only to reappear a few moments later carrying a heavy old mahogany full length mirror, which he set down by the bed.

Sam stared.

_See? What dya think Sammy?_ I watched him anxiously.

Sam just stared.

_Pretty cool huh?_

The pup was still staring, like he was in shock or something.

_I mean, you look..._

He cut me off with a pitiful wail... _ridiculous! Dean I'm a joke!_

Ok, that genuinely surprised me, until I very quickly figured it out. Sam thought this was it, that _this_ was his wolf form for life. And I so wanted to laugh, but Sam wasn't too receptive to humour right then, was even refusing to look at himself any longer, just stared down at his paws sadly.

_Sammy, you're not a joke.... ya just got some growing to do is all._ I nudged him with my nose, nibbling gently at one of his ears, parental instincts' taking over as I automatically checked him for flees, which was really stupid given he'd only just changed, but I couldn't help it. _You're just a baby... a puppy. And I'm so proud of you kiddo. 'Cos you're gonna grow big and strong, just like me._

Sam raised sorrowful eyes. _You think so? I'm not gonna be stuck like this every time I change? Looking like a dork?_ He sounded like a shy eight year old instead of the confident teenager he should have been.

_Nope._ Though a small selfish part of me hoped like hell he'd never grow up; he was just so darn cute like this. _Were_w_olf years work differently to dog years. As a human you're fifteen years old, but as a wolf that puts you at about eighteen months, and that difference quickly alters the older you get._

Sam snuffled and shifted his weight, gazing into the mirror, and eyed himself critically. _Okkkkayyy... I s'pose._

Tobius snorted softly, hiding a grin even as he reached down and gently wiped some sleepy-gunk from the corners of Sam's eyes.

"Are you two quite finished admiring yourselves?" He asked with a light smirk. "Or is the Sam and Dean Mutual Appreciation Society not ready to adjourn as yet?"

Sam's tail thumped the bed in a steady beat. Blue-green eyes peered innocently up at his grandfather. _A short recess for food?_

I sat up eagerly. _I second that!_

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_**Authors Notes:**_

**So there we have a puppy Sam. And wasn't he just too cute? A slightly shorter chapter than you guys are used to, but I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

**Kind regards,**

**ST xxx **


	12. Chapter 12

**Hunter of the Shadows**

**Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'**

**Chapter 12**

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**Dean's still wallowing in the bath, but the grin on his face is less smug, and more affectionate.**

**"Man, that kid sure is amazing. He'd taken on so much, and yet he came right on bouncing back. Guess I shouldn't a'been all that surprised though; Sammy's always been a star. And he's proved it time and again. Damn shame he can't prove it to himself..."**

**He suddenly cocks his head, listening intently, and a faint shuffling noise can just be made over the noise of water sloshing in the tub. Then it stops.**

**"Hey, Dean?" Sam calls out from the other side of the bathroom door. "You want some cocoa, dude?"**

**"I'll make some once I've finished my bath!" Dean calls back a little sternly. "Now get back in bed!"**

**"I'm perfectly capable..." Sam begins, in his own defence.**

**"Forget it!" Dean barks out. "I catch you putting any weight on that leg, and I WILL kick your ass!"**

**Sam can be heard shuffling awkwardly away from the door, muttering so softly the camera can't pick it up.**

**"I heard that!" Obviously, Dean's managed it ok. He glances into the camera with an eye roll and a soft smile. "Damn kid."**

**Flicking at a few bubbles and grinning when they hit the mirror above the sink, Dean's triumphant hiss of "Bullseye!" disturbs the steamy atmosphere, as he reaches over for a large fluffy towel.**

**"I'm starting to wrinkle. Excuse me ladies and gentlemen."**

**For once, he displays some modicum of modesty, and turns the camera around, treating the viewer to a bowl of an exciting variety of coloured soaps, one of which is shaped like a duck, and appears suspiciously well used.**

**Over the sound of Dean rubbing himself dry with the towel, he continues chatting away.**

**"Anyhow, Sam had a lot of readjusting to do after his first change..."**

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_**Way back again...**_

Sam spent the next few weeks mostly in wolf form, just getting used to it. As his recovery from Gordon's sick torture progressed, he grew stronger and shot up a few inches, piling on the pounds as his appetite improved. But it was all muscle. He was still gangly, all legs and fur, but he could put on a turn of speed that even challenged the Impala, and his strength was just as impressive.

Sam admitted to me sometime later, shortly before his sixteenth birthday, that the change had completely freaked him out. But despite that, for the first time in his life, he felt whole. I knew what he meant; we were a proper family, a small pack with Tobius as alpha, Sam the young trainee, and me as bodyguard to them both. Not that Tobius needed a bodyguard, but that's how I proudly saw my role. And he'd even suggested that my place would be as alpha one day. I had no idea what that was all about. Didn't really want to know.

Sam bloomed under the steady influence of a father who cherished and loved him, a brother that unmercifully teased him, ruffled his hair and called him Sammy, and the solid, quiet presence of a grandfather who never allowed him to feel anything other than safe and respected.

I know how weird that sounds, father _and_ brother. But although Sam acknowledged me as his father and sire, we would always be brothers. Sam is my best friend and I'm his, and we wouldn't just switch off nearly sixteen years of brotherhood at the mains. Wouldn't feel right even if we could.

Sam's training was due to begin in the spring, just after a heavy winter that had us holed up at a cabin in the mountains, all the better for Sam to adjust safely to life as a werewolf and to complete his recovery. I wasn't taking any chances, and besides, after all that happened with John and Gordon, I figured we could use the break.

Many a snowball fight took place, with Sam and I laughing loudly, dodging in and out of the conifers like a couple of crazies. But my favourite time would be first thing in the morning when Sam would change, bound outside excitedly and begin rolling over and over in the snow, emitting loud doggy growls of contentment. Then he would just roll onto his back, legs in the air, oversized, furry paws stretching languorously to the sky, not giving a damn about how undignified he looked. Made me laugh every time. He was definitely fully recovered.

In wolf form he was losing that soft downy puppy fur to the harder, tougher coat of adulthood. According to Tobius, his colouring was unusual amongst our kind, made him stand out in a way that strangely embarrassed him. Sam's coat turned the colour of deep burnished gold, like an Irish Setter but darker. Combined with vivid glowing blue-green eyes, held over a long snout and framed by tall spiky ears... the effect was stunning.

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Tobius had taken off for a few weeks, and returned to us just before the big thaw, laden down with groceries and news.

News of Gordon.

We hadn't spoken about Gordon since Sam made his first change, not wanting to worry the kid too soon. Tobius hadn't been around much during the winter, and I assumed he was hunting while I stayed at home and kept an eye on the pup. Sam's recovery was steady and his strength was returning nicely and then some, but I just felt more comfortable keeping him close.

There'd been reports of a stray a couple of states over, snatching babies from their cribs, stealing them away into the night and leaving their bloodied remains in the churchyard. It was pretty gruesome, and Tobius was gone a long time hunting the bastard down, only to find it was all a taunt. The non-lunar was deliberately luring Tobius in for a very specific reason; the dead children being the grisly equivalent of a voice mail message _come and get me._

Turned out the stray was under the direct employ of our dear old friend and professional sadist, Gordon. Which kinda surprised me; sick and twisted he might have been, but he was also a hunter, so to be working alongside a particularly murderous werewolf seemed strange, and that was when Tobius dropped the bombshell.

Apparently our initial suspicions about him weren't that far off base.

"He's a _what?_"

Tobius nodded, and Sam's eyes darted fearfully between the two of us. When Father spoke next he sounded perfectly calm and composed, but I wasn't fooled for a second.

"It seems that he fully turned about a month back." He pinched the bridge of his nose then muttered quietly "that's why he still smelled vaguely human when he kidnapped Sam. It was only his shocking strength and speed that clued me in. He'd been bitten but hadn't fed. I told you at the time I had my suspicions, knew something was different about him. Gordon was half way between human and vampire, the best of both worlds so to speak."

I thought about that for a second, remembering Sam's soft cries of pain as he lay in my arms, the sight of the blood, the smell...

My eyes pinched at the memory.

"I don't remember smelling anything other than silver and Sammy's blood," I reasoned finally. "But then, you're the one who got real up close and personal with the bastard."

"So… uh… what does that mean for us?" Sam sounded worried and he had every right to be.

Tobius raised his head.

"Big trouble. We can't smell him."

That was news to me.

Apparently, werewolves can't smell vamps, something to do with our range of smell, and their scent just sits above it.

But the best news?

Oh yeah, break out the godamn champagne for this one guys:

'Cos _they..._

_..._ can smell _us_.

Oh yes.

Although our sense of smell is powerful, they have a much _wider _range.

That's right!

Ol'Nosferatu was probably out there sharpening his teeth and tying a godamn napkin round his neck, whilst we were sitting in our kitchen, trying to wrap our head round the idea that, as far as Gordon Walker was concerned, werewolves had literally just _plummeted to the bottom of the supernatural food chain._

And all because of a long forgotten war.

Just freaking great!

I thumped the kitchen table angrily and abruptly got to my feet.

"Oh that's just perfect. So with our heightened sense of smell, sight, superior strength… we can't even see the bastard coming for us?"

"I don't get it." Sam spoke up, thankfully interrupting my tirade before I could really get started. He had greater confidence these days, felt allowed to express his opinions without interruption, as an equal. "How come this hasn't been a problem up 'til now? I mean, vamps are an ancient race same as us."

"There holds a very uneasy peace between the two," Father explained carefully. "We reached a truce some centuries ago to stop us tearing each other to pieces. Vamps and werewolves aren't exactly friends now, but not exactly enemies either; we just stay out of each other's way. And I'd personally never come across a 'half-breed' before, someone who's neither completely human nor vampire, so it makes sense they still smell human, but have _almost_ the strength and speed of a vamp. And I have to say, it's definitely a new one with me. Usually, the newly bitten feed on human blood as soon as possible, but Gordon obviously had more will power than the rest."

Sam nodded slowly in understanding.

"So, since there hasn't been a battle between the races in years, _centuries_, not being able to smell their scent has never really been an issue until now. Yeah I get it." He leaned back in his seat looking thoughtful, and I could practically _hear_ that genius brain of his ticking over like a well-oiled machine. "But if Gordon comes after us like he threatened, won't that start a war?"

And I have to say I was impressed.

Sammy didn't sound like _Sammy_.

He sounded like a Captain, assessing the truth.

Tobius shook his head.

"No. Vamps are pretty much like werewolves; so long as their nest isn't the one being attacked, they don't care. The truce is an unwritten agreement. Small skirmishes will be dealt with solely by the individuals involved, and not by dragging the rest of the population into battle. So any altercation with Gordon will be ignored by other werewolf packs and vampire nests."

In other words, no one would be coming to help us. We were on our own.

But the upside?

Gordon would also be…. _ah_.

And that's when it hit me that there _was_ no upside. He'd hired one of _our_ kind to help draw us out into the open. I could immediately see why Tobius held non-lunar strays in such contempt; not only were they cold blooded murderers, they were the worst for stabbing their own kind in the back.

"That sounds pretty selfish," Sam murmured sadly, referring back to the truce.

"Not really, Sam. It actually makes a lot of sense." Tobius continued kindly. "A sort of 'you look after your corner of the world, and I'll take care of mine' approach. It also means that no one else has to get hurt."

"I guess." But Sam was still frowning.

Realising his grandson wasn't convinced, Tobius smiled.

"Believe me, it is better this way. You don't want to know about the carnage from before the truce, the number of human losses, because the poor souls were caught in the cross-fire between two very powerful races. I know it's not perfect, but it works."

I was still reeling from the shock.

"Given how much he hates werewolves and anything else supernatural, I'd have thought vamps would be top of his shit list." I shook my head. "I'm just surprised he didn't take his own life once he was bitten."

"He fully intended to once John Winchester's death was avenged, and, of course, he'd used Sam to trap and kill a few more werewolves." Tobius looked distinctly unsettled at that. "But when he couldn't track us," deep green eyes met mine, glowing with fear and anger. "He changed his mind, and went through with his first feed."

Apparently, Gordon had appeared in the churchyard shortly after the body of the last victim had shown up, calmly shot his werewolf companion in the heart with silver, then spent some considerable time obliging Tobius with a lengthy explanation.

The typical arch enemy. A regular Bond villain.

Gordon had been caught up in a vampire nest and only just managed to escape, but not unscathed. He'd taken a set of fangs direct to the jugular and after a devastating struggle for freedom Gordon struck out with his machete and got lucky. Very lucky as it happened. Stumbling around in shock and with massive blood loss, a kind soul had picked him up on the side of the road and taken him for a frantic patch job at the local ER. He'd known what he would become and as soon as he found the strength, Gordon headed off to the nearest bar. Blind drunk and beyond the help of Dutch courage, he'd cried into his whisky shots all night, praying to the God of Alcohol Poisoning to finish him off permanently. And that was the night he met up with an equally drunk John Winchester.

I was starting to see where this was going.

John's death hadn't been too long after that and it gave Gordon Walker a reason to live. As soon as he heard about John's disappearance, Gordon had tracked him to his last known location, the grotty motel where we found Sam, and examined the area. Tobius had done a good job of cleaning the place up but Gordon used his supercharged sense of smell, some considerable powers of deductive reasoning (after all, no one could ever accuse of him of being stupid), put two and two together and came up with the right answer.

After his plan to use Sam's new werewolf status to trap us failed spectacularly, Gordon knew we wouldn't allow him another opportunity to grab Sam, and formulated plan B.

"Whoa, hold on a second," this was a question that had been squatting in the back of mind for some time now, and it needed an answer. "Why did you let him go in the first place?" Was that a hint of anger in my voice? "Back then, when I was carrying Sammy to the car, you had every chance to take him out. Why didn't you? After everything he did to Sam, and you let the bastard walk!"

Oh yeah, that was more than just a hint. Try an avalanche of built up fury, that I hadn't realised was even there.

"My _son_, your _grandson_, was nearly killed by that fucker!" It was only Sam's small flinch that kept me from losing my cool completely. "So tell me, Tobius! Why _did_ ya let him go?"

Tobius shrugged sadly, and shook his head.

"I honestly thought he would give me the correct release spell for Sam's collar. It wasn't until I got back to you both that I started to wonder about it. But I'd promised Gordon he could go free, and I always keep my word." He glanced at me apologetically, but something burned deep in his eyes. Something _important. _"It's a matter of honour. But rest assured I won't be making that mistake with him again."

I know what you're thinking: _that's a pretty lame excuse._

But trust me it ain't.

Honour is sacred amongst our kind. It's a code we live, breathe, and regretfully, in some cases, die for. And in an eight hundred year old werewolf, it's _really _gonna carry some weight.

So I understood. Seriously I did.

As much as it pissed me off, that noble gentlemen thing Father had going, ya couldn't help but respect a guy with such old fashioned values.

It's a part of us.

And, whether or not you like to admit it, it's also a part of you.

And remember guys, in the end, it was _Gordon_ who'd gone back on his word.

"What happened at the graveyard?" Sam's sympathetic voice cut through my musings, neatly changing the subject.

Gordon's plan B also failed.

After our last run in with Gordon we'd gone into hiding so quickly he hadn't been able to track us. Even after taking his first feed and becoming a full vampire, purely to improve his senses and strength for the hunt of a lifetime, there was still no sign of us. We'd taken up residence in the mountains shortly before the winter blizzard set in, covering our tracks. He knew there was only one way to smoke us out.

Gordon had expected to see all three of us on the stray hunt. He rightly surmised that Sam could easily have undergone his first change, especially as so much time had passed since he abducted the kid. So with no young werewolf to keep alive as bate, Gordon had intended this to be his last hunt.

The master plan was to cause confusion and disruption, enough to separate us. Then he could take us down, one by one. As plans went, it was simple, effective, and there's an outside chance it might have worked.

Three werewolves with one stone, as it were. Kinda like an exclusive 'all you can eat' buffet, complete with silver service.

So I can only imagine the frustration and anger the vamp must have felt, when only one werewolf showed up for dinner. Needless to say, I wasn't sympathetic.

"We had a bit of a scuffle," Tobius continued with his usual understatement, and even Sam rolled his eyes. "He slashed me with a silver blade, and I was forced to retreat before things got ugly."

I could tell from the sympathetic look he gave Sam it was _the_ silver blade.

"I holed up at the hotel to recover before heading back to you boys. Figured that way, I could keep him off your scent for a little while longer." Tobius got to his feet and squeezed my shoulder. "I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner, but I had to pick up a few more items along the way."

I looked at him curiously. "Like what exactly?"

Tobius reached over to the backpack sitting on the floor by his chair, pulled out a plastic zip bag full of some dried leaves and threw it on the table.

"Burning this will help cover our scent; Gordon won't be able to track us."

"No one would _want_ to track us!" Sam had picked up the bag and taken a good sniff, nose scrunching up in distaste. "This stuff stinks!"

Leaning over him and taking a more careful sniff I had to agree.

"Oh man that's gross!"

Tobius grinned.

"Well, as you kids would say, suck it up, 'cos I'm also going to extract the oil from fresh samples and wash our clothes in it."

Sam and I exchanged a horrified glance.

"Good job I don't go to school anymore," Sam remarked with a soft sigh.

My concerns were a little more serious.

"I am _never_ having sex again!" I whispered fearfully.

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After further light discussion and some lazing about, we changed and headed out for a moonlight hunt. We needed to take our minds off the Gordon Sicko Walker situation before it drove us insane.

That's our way. Give us some time out, and we'll come back later to think it through properly.

Besides, there was kind of a plus: we knew for certain our vamp's objectives were a little less complicated now. Instead of killing Tobius and me, then keeping Sam prisoner until Gordon bit his own tongue one too many times (Oh c'mon! That _has_ to happen. I mean, all those teeth!), he now wanted all three of us dead.

Yeah. That was definitely a plus. If you squint hard enough, stand on your head, and maybe put on some rose tinted glasses. You'll see what I'm sayin'.

There was a herd of deer a few miles off and Tobius was hankering for some fresh venison. Sam always came with us, loving the freedom and the sense of contentment that only came from running with the pack. But he never took part in the kill.

Don't get me wrong, he was damn good at the tracking, stalking, the final attack, but he shied away from the rest. Sam's soft heart never allowed him to take that final step, and when Tobius called him on it, I wondered if sparks were about to fly.

Sam flattened his ears and ducked his head submissively when his grandfather stood in front of him, quietly demanding an explanation.

_I just can't. I'm sorry, but when our cooler and cupboards are stocked with perfectly good food, I can't just kill an innocent animal._ Soft eyes glowed brightly in the moonlight as he pawed nervously at the ground. _I know that's stupid. I'm a werewolf; we're not supposed to feel things like that._

_No child._ Tobius was full of surprises. _You're wrong. If that's the way you feel then I admire you for standing up and sticking to your guns. That takes guts. And it's what sets us apart from the strays._

Sam nearly stumbled back over his own tail in shock. _But… but…_

He was obviously still conditioned to the John Winchester way of life.

Tobius nudged him with his snout, briefly licking Sam's right ear. _Only one thing that worries me Sam. If you had to… if you had no other choice… could you?_

I watched my boy think that through carefully. _Dean's life might one day depend on me. If he was injured and couldn't fend for himself… If I had no choice, then yes. _

I stayed silent; a quiet observer of the exchange between pup and grandpa, but my heart was soaring higher than the moon that night.

That gives you some idea of how Tobius dealt with Sam pretty much most of the time. He was the complete opposite to John, patient, kind and always listened carefully to Sam's side of things. He never got between us, which was why we hardly ever argued as a family, at least not in that shouting, yelling and storming off kind of way. We had heated debates and discussions, and almost always managed to reach some kind of compromise.

But don't let that mislead you. Yeah, Sammy's a great kid and all but he's no angel, and several times I had to discipline the boy:

_Dean do I really have to clean the floor…?_

_Hey, quit bitchin'! Just get on with it, and may be next time you'll remember to wipe off your paws before leaving muddy prints all over the damn place!_

_Yeah, but dude! With my __**tongue**__? Ewww!_

_I've seen you cheerfully roll in deer crap, so don't give me that!_

Yeah, that was a bit cruel, but hey! Gave me some amusement, and he never did it again.

But...

"Sammy?" I bellowed out from the bedroom. "Where the hell's my walkman?"

"Uh…"

"If you've been playing George Michael again…" I growled furiously.

"Uh… sorry Dean. It… kinda… broke?"

The pup ran like hell when he saw me coming, and wisely disappeared for several hours.

I was lounging by the fire, almost asleep, when a wet nose pressed hesitantly against my ear, snuffling softly. Not saying a word, and without opening my eyes, I just put out my arm and instantly a warm, furry body was wriggling underneath and curling up against me.

_Sorry 'bout your walkman Dean. It was an accident. I'll get you a new one I promise._

_Just go to sleep Sammy._ But I couldn't stop grinning.

That became the standard Sammy Apology whenever he got in trouble. And I forgave him every time.

Wouldn't _you?_

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**_Author's notes:_**

**Sorry this is a little later than expected, but my laptop's been playing up. Might need to take it in for repair. Bloody updates!**

**Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and that Werewolf Sammy continues to satisfy!**

**Special thanks, and lots of Puppy Sam snuggles goes out to Jen Burch; she kept me going when I was about ready to blow a fuse. This was a particularly difficult chapter, and along with the helpful input from Phx and Sendinthclowns, its been around the world more times than Richard Branson.**

**Cheers again everyone.**

**Kind regards,**

**ST xxx**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hunter of the Shadows**

**Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'**

**Chapter 13**

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**Dean's chuckling, good humour once again restored. But then this guy's philosophy is obviously the 'glass is half full'.**

"**Sammy in training..." His eyes glow with fierce pride, but he just shakes his head in amusement, before pointing at the lens with great showmanship. "Just wait and see..."**

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_**Here we go again...**_

Sammy crouched low on the ground, leg muscles tense, hindquarters raised slightly, tail low. He growled angrily then snarled, teeth bared, and his hackles began to rise up.

Sam no longer looked adorable. He was huge, powerful and downright scary like this.

He was magnificent.

So it was completely wasted on the squirrel who turned its' back on him, unconcerned, and scurried up the tree trunk. Sam looked a little deflated but soon recovered, shaking out his thick mane and strolling nonchalantly away. As in human form, Sam's hair was long and thick, and right by his ears it was soft, just like his puppy coat had once been.

_Hmph. Soon showed him huh Dean? See how fast he ran away from me?_

_Uh… sure. Whatever you say kiddo._ I replied, trying not to laugh but failed when Sam shot me a suspicious look that said he knew exactly what I was thinking.

It was Sam's second week of training and the day of his sixteenth birthday. He'd tried the intimidation tactic on every creature we encountered on our hunting treks, but word had obviously gotten out that the youngest werewolf just couldn't bring himself to hurt them, so not one critter was taking him seriously. But even back then I had no doubt in my mind that if someone or something threatened his family, there'd be hell to pay.

We didn't actually do much training that day, just let the kid enjoy his birthday with some good old fashioned family frolics, rolling in the mud, play fighting in which the two of us ganged up on Tobius, hunted him, then attacked by pouncing on top of the older werewolf. He was a good sport about it all and rolled over, exposing his soft underbelly in submission, allowing Sam a small victory. We both watched with fond amusement as the youngster strutted round us, head held high, chest puffed out, thoroughly carrying the joke to its extreme before snorting with laughter at himself.

That was also the day a very important letter was delivered. The writing on the envelope was old fashioned, and in black curly letters _**Tobius Le Salle**_ stood out. There was no address, clearly hand delivered but Tobius wasn't worried, almost seemed to expect it. Ripping it open he began to read, an eyebrow slowly rising.

"Well, well, well. Didn't think she'd ever go this far," he muttered softly.

Sam and I glanced at each over our thick rare steaks in au poivre sauce and shrugged. But it was good news because Tobius started laughing.

Oh it was good all right.

In spite of the truce, Tobius did sometimes keep in contact with a vampire nest down in Florida. The head vamp was some chick called Lenore Tobius had befriended – and he used the term loosely – around the time of the Boar war. They'd helped each other out from time to time over the years and it seemed she'd just done us another good turn. I found it strange that Tobius never kept in contact with other werewolf packs, yet he was quite happy to hear from a vampire of all things.

"Lenore is responsible for the rise of passive vampires." Tobius smiled when I asked. "They only drink animal blood, not human. She's been free of human blood for over four centuries. And because of her teachings there aren't many nests left now that touch humans, but those that do are left for the human hunters to deal with."

"Ok." I nodded slowly. "So what's the good news?"

Sam leaned in, eager to hear this.

"Some of her family ran into a certain hunter with _vampiric _tendencies." Tobius handed over the letter. "They currently have him under lock and key whilst they attempt to _re-condition_ him."

Whilst Sam studied the letter I raised an eyebrow.

"Do you think that's even possible?"

Tobius shook his head.

"Honestly? No. I think he's too far gone for that now."

"What'll happen to him then?" Sam asked hesitantly.

I sensed his fear; Sammy was very sick and badly injured at the hands of Gordon, but the emotional abuse on the kid had been even harder to bounce back from.

"They'll treat him well, keep him fed. He'll have a comfortable enough life," Tobius answered.

"What?" That shocked the hell out of me. "Just so he can escape and come after us again? No way!"

"Dean, they won't kill their own kind unless they're forced into a corner," Father explained patiently. "It's not in their nature."

Sam just remained silent, food untouched and growing cold.

Tobius suddenly stood.

"I think a double celebration is in order."

He pulled open the drinks cabinet and retrieved an unusual shaped bottle, amber liquid sloshing thickly against the glass. It was his favourite brandy, a gift from some long dead French president I'd never heard of.

"Come on you two, cheer up. Sam turned sixteen today, his training is going well and Gordon's out of the picture…"

"Temporarily," I grouched.

"No he's right, Dean," Sam finally spoke up, suddenly looking a little brighter. "At least we know where he is now, right? We can stop hiding and looking over our shoulders. As for the other hunters he's supposed to have told about John's death… have we _ever_ heard from them? They probably wouldn't know us if they ran into us on the street."

There was some comfort in that, and yeah, they both had a point. Not the best situation, but if we now knew where Gordon was all the time it was a definite improvement.

So we raised a glass to Sam on his sweet sixteen, then took him into the nearest town for an evening of beer and pool, content in the knowledge that we were safe for the time being.

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"Deeaaannnn…. yaknowIloveyaright?"

I smirked. It seemed the beer had been a little strong and gone down a little too smoothly. I held him up with an arm round his waist.

"Yeah, love ya too."

"Y… yo… youthebest... _hic_… man…" Sammy swayed and blinked, his tall frame wavering dangerously, and my arm tightened. Tobius stepped up to support his other side and we lead him back into the cabin, dumping him fully clothed on his bed. Yeah, he'd definitely gotten over his fear of alcohol.

"To… Tob… Tobyyyyyyy…" Sam wailed in a singsong voice, and not to mention totally out of key, assuming there was meant to be a key in there somewhere; it was a little hard to tell.

I turned to grin at Tobius.

"Toby? That's _definitely_ your name from now on."

That earned me a deep scowl.

"It's not often I feel it necessary to issue a direct order, but if I _ever_ hear that word fall from your lips again…" and went on to explain in quite graphic detail how he intended to exact his revenge.

I began to wonder if Tobius wasn't getting a little obsessive about rectal thermometers. In any case the threat made me wince, and that seemed to mollify him.

"I'll get some water on standby," Tobius jerked his chin at Sam, who was now snoring loudly and drooling quite excessively, mouth wide open. "He's going to have one mother and father of a hangover in the morning."

I chuckled softly then began removing Sam's boots and socks. Even more comical was Sam's nose. It was elongating and shortening as he snuffled and gurgled in his sleep, the excess beer obviously messing with his inner wolf switches. It might have been cute if not for the long stream of saliva running down his chin.

At least he hadn't been sick; I was grateful for small mercies. Last thing I felt like doing was cleaning up piles of vomit in the small hours of the morning.

Guilt assailed me a little; werewolves can get drunk but the alcohol doesn't kill brain or liver cells, doesn't cause renal failure or gastroenteritis. We don't even suffer from addictions. But I still wondered if we were setting a good example for Sam, getting him drunk when he'd only just turned sixteen. It hardly seemed responsible behaviour…

And that had me laughing out loud. We had bigger worries than one binge drinking session that wouldn't do any harm, and it was the kid's birthday after all. Maybe John Winchester had affected me even more than _I'd_ known.

Kicking off my own boots I dropped face down on the next bed. I didn't hear Tobius come into the room, but he must have done at some point; when I woke up some hours later there were two bottles of water on the nightstand between our beds.

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"Good morning Dean!" Tobius was bright and cheerful, with a glint of mischief in his eyes especially when he saw the run down, hunched over form trudging along behind me. "And good morning Sam! How's my favourite grandson? Feeling somewhat delicate perhaps?"

Sam let out a pained moan in reply and I tried not to grin. The kid slumped into a chair at the kitchen table, buried his shaggy head in shaky hands and muttered something along the lines of "Please... just let me die in peace."

"Aw Sammy." I patted him on the back then stuck my mouth close to his ear. "You hungry? How about a nice _greasy_ fried breakfast? Line that stomach!"

"Deeaaannnn..." Sam was close to sliding off the chair into a puddle on the floor. "God! I hate you so much right now."

"Sure ya do." I opened the cooler and had a good rummage through the contents.

Chuckling softly, Tobius poured some coffee and slid the mug across the table.

"Its decaf but the sugar might help as a pick-me-up."

Sam raised his head and offered up a small grateful smile before sticking his nose in the mug, and began slurping loudly.

Tobius wouldn't even allow caffeine in our diets because of its stimulant properties. Just like pain meds caffeine is bad for our metabolism, throws it out of alignment or something, and in any case, we don't really need it.

"_Sure_ you don't want anything to eat?"

Sam carefully placed the mug back on the table and opened his eyes to slits.

"Uh... fruit juice... or ice cream?" He whispered. "Or maybe an entire year's supply of aspirin?" Sam fixed Tobius with the puppy dog eyes.

His grandfather chortled and shook his head.

"No aspirin, Sam."

Sam didn't bother to argue, knowing Tobius was right.

"'kay." And slumped back down in his seat, head bouncing gently on his arms.

Taking pity on the poor hung-over wretch, I dug around in the icebox and stood up triumphant. A few minutes later I pressed a stoneware desert bowl against Sam's forehead and he groaned with relief, one hand reaching up and weakly scrabbling at my arm.

"Raspberry sorbet." I announced softly. "Your favourite."

Sam opened his eyes fully and smiled.

"Thanks Dean." Pushing aside his empty coffee mug and grabbing the bowl, he eagerly tucked into the sorbet. "Wow. Man, this is great. So sweet and cold."

"Yeah, but don't eat it too fast huh?"

"Nuhuh," Sam insisted, licking the spoon enthusiastically. "You're the one who gets ice cream headaches." Then in a complete change of subject "So what we doing today? More training?"

Tobius rolled up his newspaper.

"Yep. But not with squirrels this time." The newspaper hit the table with a light thud. "We're hunting a bear."

Sam's jaw dropped.

"What? A b...bear? Uh..." he shifted nervously in his seat looking first at me, then Tobius. "You're kidding... right?"

I tried to hold in my mirth. This particular exercise was actually a lot of fun and nothing like what it sounded. It was a great way of learning to distinguish different scents, and Tobius often rigged up some pretty decent challenges.

So when we lead Sam outside after breakfast it was agreed that I would stay with him and assist the first time out, which was just as well. Christ knows where the kid would've ended up without me there to put him on the right track. He's scary bright, and as it turned out, too damn good.

"Ok."Sam's left leg jiggled up and down nervously. "So... a bear? What kind of bear? Brown? Grizzly?"

Tobius smirked and held something out.

"Teddy."

Sam nearly sagged with relief.

"I thought... I thought..."

Bumping his shoulder with mine, I chortled softly.

"We knew exactly what you were thinking, ya big dope."

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The teddy bear was dark brown with a small nose and blue eyes. It was once a cute child's toy but now it was kinda creepy looking, especially with one arm missing from my last training session when I ripped it out of Sire's hand and ran off with it. Tobius had patched it up as best he could, but there was no getting away from it; Little Ted wouldn't be putting up much of a fight, so Sammy had nothing to worry about.

To make it as realistic as possible, Little Ted was contaminated with a pungent smelling organic substance, in other words we rolled him in genuine bear crap. Sometimes it was deer or rabbit, whatever was fresh at the time. But today Tobius had found a steaming pile of the bear variety. If ever you needed any definite proof that bears do indeed shit in the woods, just refer back to this journal entry. And you can quote me on that, by the way.

After outlining the objective to Sam – find Little Ted by following his scent – we allowed him to get a good whiff of the stuffed toy. Grimacing with disgust, Sam choked a little and nodded that he was ready. Whilst I blindfolded him and shut him away in the cabin, Tobius tied some strong cord around the bear's neck then quietly sprinted off into the trees, dragging the hapless Ted behind him on the forest floor, effectively smearing the scent in its wake. The idea was to memorise a scent in human form, but follow and hunt as a wolf. Not as easy as it sounds, 'cos your nose is a little less sensitive as a human and it's possible to get confused with what you're hunting. It's an essential skill however, one that came heavily into play when Sam was kidnapped by Gordon.

"You ok there, Sam?"

"Uhuh." He was obviously still nervous.

"What's wrong kid?"

Sam gulped nervously, head bowed and I wished Tobius would hurry up and give us the signal so I could remove Sam's blindfold, all the better to read his face.

"I guess... I..." he sighed heavily and sniffed morosely. I noticed the blindfold was a little damp and my heart clenched for the kid. "I'm scared I'm gonna fuck this up, Dean. S'posing I'm no good at this?" he asked in a small voice.

"So that's it, huh?" I wrapped an arm round his shoulders, giving him an affectionate shake. "I'm not gonna tell you to stop worrying, and I'm not gonna bother saying that you'll ace it. _I _know you will, Tobius knows it... the only person here who needs convincing is you. And there's only one way you're gonna do that..."

_Ok Sam. The hunt's on._ Came Tobius' thoughts.

I pulled the blindfold away from Sam's head.

"Good, luck kiddo." I clapped him on the back. "Now, go get that nasty bear!"

Sam removed his clothes shyly and changed, padded to the door then glanced up at me, whining softly.

_You're coming too right?_

In seconds we slunk into the forest, side by side, ears twitching. Though I was there to assist, this was Sam's lead to take. Which he did admirably.

Just one tiny problem though.

Sam picked up the scent of the actual _bear_.

Yep, Gentle Ben had taken a huge dump and wandered off, only to return a little later to find a couple werewolves cramping its style. Sam had raced on ahead, eager and oh so determined he was on the right path, ignoring my warnings, ploughing through the undergrowth until he _pounced..._

There came about a strained silence followed by a soft:

_Oh shit. Dean? Uh... you did say it wasn't a __**real**__ bear... right?_

I've seen some pretty amazing sights over the years, but I have to say that absolutely _nothing_ comes close to what I saw on battling my way through the forest and emerging from a close crop of conifers...

Sam was sprawled over the back of one big assed hairy bear, clinging on for dear life. I'm not sure which was funniest; the utter fear on my boy's face as he whispered

_I daren't let go so don't fucking ask me to!_

Or the look of utter surprise and shock on the face of the bear.

And Gentle Ben turned out to be not so gentle.

With a loud angry roar, the bear rose up on its hind legs, throwing Sam violently off his back and into a tree. The pup leapt back up on to his paws, shaking his mane out furiously. His stance suggested the only damage he'd suffered was to his pride, as he stalked towards his newly found nemesis.

_Right! That's it!_ Sam's temper was sparked and that was never a safe path.

_Uh, Sammy? I really wouldn't do that if I were you. _I studied the bear, sniffing lightly. _He looks pretty mad._

_Hmph. Not nearly mad enough!_ Sam charged with a loud experimental war howl, and collided with the bear's chest, whereupon he was swivelled until he was upside down, head dangling between the bear's thick hind quarters, ears brushing the forest floor.

_Ok. This wasn't quite what I had in mind._ Sam swung helplessly as the bear appeared to be laughing, and I _knew_ something was off here.

"Ok that's enough!" Tobius appeared from nowhere and clapped his hands before frowning deeply. "Gerald? I thought you were moving on today. Aren't you in enough trouble with your wife as it is without being late again?"

The bear... _became a guy_. And a really _small_ one at that.

Gerald looked sad and grumpy all at the same time.

"I'm always in trouble. Don't matter what I do."

I glanced over at Tobius in disbelief.

_He's a werebear? I thought they were just a legend!_

Tobius snorted.

"I don't think I need to point out the general hypocrisy of that statement do I, Dean?"

Sam, having been dumped unceremoniously on his head, sat up shakily.

_Gerald? Werebear...what?_

Tobius sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What did you do to piss her off this time?" It was obviously a conversation they'd had before.

Gerald seemed to sag despondently.

"Oh man! I sleep walk, ok? And last night... I left muddy prints all over the new carpet!"

I actually thought he was going to cry.

But Sam was gazing at him sympathetically.

_And she made ya lick it clean huh? Man that sucks. _Big_ time. _Accusing eyes turned my way and I stifled a laugh.

The little guy looked gratefully at the pup, and there seemed to be an air of solidarity between them.

Sam slunk forward, body low to the ground.

_Hope I didn't hurt you. Sorry. I'm pretty new to all this._

Gerald sniffed then smiled.

"Me too. My wife turned me last year but I don't think I'll ever get used to it," he shrugged. "But no, you didn't hurt me. _Bearly_ a scratch..." he glanced around at us hopefully, silently begging for some kind of applause for the bad pun. "Get it? _Bearly?_ Ya see..."

"Yes, yes." Tobius answered tiredly. "Very good. But I think we should be getting back."

Gerald's face fell.

"Oh. Ok. Well it was nice meeting you two." He nodded at Sam. "For someone who's new to this? Doing pretty good kid."

Without another word he _changed_ and lumbered off clumsily into the undergrowth.

Sam stood straighter and puffed out his chest. _Doing pretty good. Coming from a werebear huh?_

I resisted the urge to laugh but butted my muzzle playfully against his rear haunch.

_Don't get cocky kid._

It was a hellish strange encounter but for some reason Sam's confidence perked up a little after that. And it had a weird effect on me too. We had an actual _neighbour _of sorts, and that was comforting.

Somehow we didn't feel quite so alone.

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_**Authors notes:**_

Just a bit of fun there. I've read fics about werebears but I've never actually come across a film about them, and they fascinate me somewhat.

Hope that made you all chuckle a wee bit.

Kind regards,

ST xxx


	14. Chapter 14

**Hunter Of The Shadows**

**Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'**

**Chapter 14**

**Reposted since live journal wouldn't let me on to say:**

**Happy Birthday to Devon99!!**

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**Dean's smiling fondly into the camera.**

"**Things sure were changing. And it seemed like time was moving faster the older we got." He smiles softly. "But that year? I just didn't know what to say..."**

**It's possibly a true first for him, tears well up in his eyes, and you just **_**know**_** what's coming is gonna be special.**

"**He had so much to deal with, and I would have traded places any damn day of the week... but no matter what's going on, Sammy has a way of making ya feel special..."**

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_**Back then...**_

Training was mostly smooth, with Sam picking up the different hunting methods quickly, even adapting and improving them a little. The weeks rolled by with us barely noticing, until they turned into months.

The passage of time was only really brought home to me when I came back to the cabin from an early grocery run one morning, to find a grinning Sam and Tobius wearing party hats, their faces lit up by the candles of a huge cake, top heavy with chocolate icing.

A banner on the wall behind it stated 'Happy Birthday Dean' in bright red curly letters.

The two of them did a little tap dance on the spot, then brought out the jazz hands, one on each side of the banner, and pointing up at it.

I confess, I very nearly turned into an outright pussy there and then.

Tears threatened as I gazed at Sam's happy face, noting how much he'd grown and filled out since we came here, his hair a little longer, thicker, skin practically glowing with health. I felt so proud my chest was about ready to burst.

"Hey! Birthday boy! You with us?" Sam was snapping his fingers in front of my face. "C'mon, open your presents so we can cut the cake!"

I grinned back, revelling in the glow of excitement in his eyes.

"Sure, Sammy."

And that's when I noticed the pile of brightly wrapped gifts sitting beside Tobius, and my face fell. I'd thought he was joking.

"Sammy... I didn't get you anything for your last birthday. What the hell did you do?"

Not to say that birthdays aren't a big deal or anything, because they are, but our human birthdays aren't really something we buy presents for. Sure, we celebrate in our own way, but never go to the extravagance of buying gifts. That wasn't considered traditional in wolf lore, sometimes even taken as an insult - a kind of snub: _you can't afford it,_ or, _you just ain't got the balls to take what you need._ Yeah, werewolves can be pretty bitchy, when you get right down to it.

But not Sammy.

He had his own reasons for this, and they were written all over his young face as he watched me closely, soft eyes wide and alert.

Those darn tears were threatening again.

Sam tried to shrug casually, but I could see how much this meant to him.

"I just wanted to do something, ya know...." he ducked his head, sneakered feet nervously scuffing the kitchen floor "a little special...'cos..._'cos you deserve it_."

I didn't wait to be asked, just leapt forward and grabbed the kid up in my arms, holding on tight like I never wanted to let go.

"Stupid kid." I muttered into the soft curls at the base of his neck and sniffed back a sob; I heard Sam laugh softly. "Didn't have to do this for me."

I allowed Sammy just a little space so he could pull back and gaze at me, eyes burning bright with love.

"Yeah, I did." He whispered. "If it weren't for you and Tobius, I wouldn't be here now. John would've killed me. But you... _you came and got me out._ You gave me a second chance. You put up with so much crap from me, yet you never complain and you're always encouraging me, always helping me... you... you..." The kid was running out of breath and his sentence was suffering an extreme attack of 'you', so I decided to go easy on him.

"Whoa. Any more Dean worship and I'm gonna drown." I gave him a cocky grin, "though I can totally understand why. I am_ awesome._"

"Oh please..." Tobius snorted. I could practically hear the grating noise as his eyeballs rolled sarcastically in their sockets.

"He's right though." Sam smiled and his voice grew a little hoarse. "Yeah. You sure are awesome."

A knife appeared in my peripheral vision.

"Time to cut the cake, before all the chocolate melts." Tobius offered quietly. "And that would be a great pity seeing how Sam and I were up 'til three this morning, putting the finishing touches on the icing."

Taking a closer look, I could see there was indeed a finishing touch.

A black Impala, made from spun sugar, with two human figures leaning against the hood, rested on top, and standing nearby was a wolf that bore an uncanny resemblance to Sire.

"Wow!"

Tobius crossed his arms, smiling.

"We didn't make the decoration – I ordered that from town a month ago. But it was Sam's idea, and he made the cake himself."

Sam ducked his head shyly, and said nothing.

Gazing between Tobius, Sam and the cake I had no idea what to say. I was truly speechless and my heart pounded fiercely.

"Ahem." Tobius gestured with the knife again. "Cake. Eat." His eyes gleamed eagerly. "Now."

Swallowing hard, I took the knife and carefully sliced into the cake, working the blade gently from the centre outwards, then made another cut and slid a large piece onto a nearby plate. I refused to cut into the sugar figurines, however, and moved them to the side.

"Go ahead." Sam was nodding enthusiastically, and the small suspicious part of my mind perked up, silently wondering if this was the start of a prank. But the blatant love and pride on the kid's face told me otherwise.

Taking a deep breath, I tasted the cake.

Four words. That's all I need to describe it.

_Oh. My. Fucking. God._

The cake wasn't just any ordinary cake.

It was one huge, _giant_ _chocolate_ _fudge cake!_

There were chocolate chips, fudge pieces, vanilla swirls, and plenty of nuts to crunch on. My first piece was quickly going south when Sam loaded my plate up with another. I wasn't going to object, and sank my teeth into the next moist slice of cake, moaning loudly and licking my lips in sheer ecstasy. Eating such treats first thing in the morning isn't something we normally do, but I sure as hell wouldn't have minded establishing the habit from that moment on.

Tobius and Sam had each taken a piece of their own, and were happily chewing away when Sam suddenly jumped up and ran to the ice box.

"I almost forgot."

He returned with a huge tub of French vanilla ice cream and I grinned widely mid-chew, presumably exposing chocolate covered teeth.

"Now ya talking!" I spluttered crumbs everywhere.

Tobius chuckled as Sam scooped out large helpings of ice cream for each of us.

"You won't want any lunch at this rate..." Sire stopped, and appeared to think that one through with a little more care. "You won't want lunch until much later at this rate." He glanced at his wrist watch. "Say an hour later than usual?"

"We don't have to eat it all today." Sam suggested, raising an eyebrow at me as if waiting for the inevitable reaction.

I didn't disappoint.

"Who says we don't?" I demanded, in between licking my spoon and reaching for my third piece of cake. "Just 'cos you're a lightweight Sammy. Me?" Thumping my chest, and drawing in a big macho breath through my nose, I announced proudly "I'm a pure, one hundred percent, dedicated chocoholic."

Sam snorted.

"Yeah, and the therapy group's gonna be named after you."

"Indeed," Tobius remarked rather dryly. "It's officially called Weight Watchers, but I'm sure that'll change."

I glared at them.

"That's it. No more cake for you two." When Sam made a move to dodge passed me, I curled around the remains of the cake protectively. "Nuhuh! Get your own! This is mine. _Me_ birthday boy! _You_ geeky little bitch!"

Sam returned the glare, but his mouth was twitching with laughter. "Dude, you are _so_ gay."

"Pot calling kettle Sam," I smirked, "You're the one who baked a cake!"

Sam folded his arms.

"A cake I baked for _you_, Gaylord. Can't believe you're using that against me!" He rested a hand over his heart mockingly. "That hurts, man."

"Hurts?" I shook my head in despair. "Ok, _now _you're turning into a girl. With actual _feelings,_ dude!"

We'd moved away from the table during our good natured exchange of insults, so we weren't aware of what Tobius was up to, until Sam cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, staring at something over my shoulder.

"Hey! Come back with that cake!"

Tobius had the cake balanced gracefully on one hand, waiter style, and was backing away grinning gleefully.

"If you two are going to argue, then no more cake," he reached the door, then gave a bow, before disappearing into the large living area of the cabin.

"_Tobius, you damn great hairy chocolate thief!_" I roared, and bounded out of the room. "Sammy? Follow that wolf!"

Finally teamed up, Sam and I stalked the older werewolf right the way through the hallway, but when we came out into the living room, Tobius was nowhere in sight.

"He didn't go out the door or use the windows," Sam muttered in puzzlement. "We'd have heard him." He sniffed, cautiously. "He's still here!"

A low whistle from above caught our attention. Tobius was sitting on a high wooden beam, one leg dangling casually, and the other braced against a vertical support strut. He appeared disgustingly smug, even as he chomped down on a large piece of fudge cake and gave us a little wave, the main bulk of the cake balanced precariously on the beam next to him.

"You want some?" He nodded to the chocolate concoction. "Come and join me!"

And grinned from ear to ear, fully aware of my hatred for heights.

I was seeing a new side to Father.

Gone was the calm, cool, responsible patriarch, who trained and cautioned his younger family members for the hunt.

What came out to play in place, was a mischievous little shit that was eating _**my fucking birthday cake!**_

"Tobius," I growled warningly.

Sam sighed, climbed onto the back of an armchair and made a powerful leap, hands catching the high beam as he swung, somersaulted, and hauled himself up next to his grandfather.

"Oh that's just great!" I sulked out, playing along. Folding my arms, I sat down cross legged on the floor like a petulant five year old, and pouted, well aware of how ridiculous I looked. "It's my birthday and some bastard steals my cake." I grumbled loudly, shooting dirty looks at the werewolves dangling above me, until they took pity.

Sam swiped up the desert, gracefully swung back down without even dislodging a crumb, then with an artful flourish offered out the plate, chortling lightly.

The rest of the day was spent in similar fashion, light teasing and general playing around until the cake was all gone, along with the ice cream.

The presents were awesome; a new hunting knife from Tobius, matching genuine leather scabbard from Sam, a Motorhead CD, and the final touch was a copy of My Dog magazine.

I glanced up at Tobius and Sam with a raised eyebrow.

Sam shrugged.

"Werewolf porn. There's a really cute poodle on page 23, getting a clip."

The magazine bounced off the side of his head, and Tobius roared with laughter.

Dinner was Thai style green chicken curry, one of my all time favourites. Sam had thrown in an extra helping of hot chillies as per my request; as I was blissed out on the heat and flavour, Tobius and Sam were downing several gallons of water, and gasping for breath between each mouthful.

They both hate extra hot and spicy food, but they put up with it just for me.

On _my_ birthday.

Gotta love 'em for it.

We rounded off the evening with a few beers in town, followed by a hunt deeper into the mountain range where the trees thinned out, and the terrain grew rocky. Up there it was more of a challenge; the stiff breeze made it just a little harder to use scent to track our prey, but it was so worth it for the view.

_Hey Sammy... come see this!_

Soft padding on the rocks from oversized paws came closer, then Sam's silky muzzle dipped under mine, inquisitive eyes peering out over a steep drop.

_Oh wow..._

The crescent moon was riding high behind a bank of cloud, the small amount of light smoky and dim. But combined with the few stars peeking through, it lit up the world below in a breathtaking display of swirling shadows, misty mountains and dark forests. Here and there clusters of tiny lights indicated that not all humans where in bed at that late hour.

Sam blinked his eyes wide, long tongue hanging out the side of his jaws in a sappy grin, completely mesmerised with the beauty spread out below.

_Hey, Dean? Remember some of those myth and fantasy stories you used to read to me when I was a kid? All those castles and warriors... this kinda puts me in mind of them._

It was on the tip of my tongue to remind him that he still _was _a kid, but I let it go. He was growing up fast, and sooner or later some hard decisions had to be made.

But not tonight.

Tonight was our time to appreciate just how far we'd come.

_Yeah..._

I dipped my head and rubbed my snout affectionately against my boy's spiky ear, eliciting a small whine of pleasure as he leaned into me. Sammy's always been a sucker for having his ears stroked.

We talked quietly for a little while, remembering those bedtime stories, a little of the past, and some good times.

Tobius kept his distance for the most part, as always sensing our needs before we even knew, but I could hear him happily roaming the mountain in the darkness above.

_Ya know? There's something I've always wanted to do._ Sam turned to me, eyes glowing with mischief in the twilight.

_Yeah?_

His grin widened for a moment, then he threw back his head, opened his mouth, and let loose the cheesiest, and loudest wolf howl I ever heard.

Probably would've given Hollywood a run for its money.

Once Sam was finished, that sappy grin returned, and I couldn't help but chuckle.

_You are such a __**dork!**_

_You telling me you never did that? _Sam's tail thumped the ground. _Seriously? C'mon Dean! You gotta do it at least once!_

In fact, after much cajoling and teasing, we both ended up howling our asses off for most of the night, with the occasional, distant answer from an amused Tobius, wherever he was.

Fun times.

I was going to make the most of it.

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_**Author's notes:**_

_**Hello my darlings!**_

_**I know this is another feel-good chapter, but believe me it's going somewhere. Also wanted to write a chapter where Sam shows Dean how he feels. I love the image this one gives me: two handsome wolves, the older one slightly bigger than the other, cast in silhouette against the landscape, just sitting close together and talking, remembering the past. And somewhere nearby is an ancient wolf, protecting his kin.**_

_**Remember that there is an on going plot with this fic, but at the same time it's a life story: the story of our favourite boys as they grow up in their new relationship as werewolves, and as father and son.**_

_**I'm pretty sure I've lost some readers already so far, and that doesn't surprise me. It's not everyone's cup of tea, as it were. But for those of you still reading and reviewing, thanks so much for sticking with me. It will be worth your time, I assure you.**_

_**Kind regards,**_

_**ST xxx **_


	15. Chapter 15

**Hunter Of The Shadows**

**Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'**

**Chapter 15**

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"**Sam don't... look! Just let me help you, ok?**

"**I think I can manage using the restroom on my own by now, Dean. And besides," Sam risks a glance at the camera, and shuffles awkwardly on his crutches. "**_**Really**_** don't want this on film, ok?"**

**Dean's sigh is frustrated, but affectionate.**

"**Ya such a whiny little bitch!" He closes the bathroom door behind Sam, offers up a small smile, and takes his seat on the couch. "As I was saying, we had a great time that night, but things got a little more difficult ****for Sam after that."**

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_**Back again...**_

Those hard decisions I spoke of? They were coming about all too soon for my peace of mind.

Not sixth months later, Tobius was nudging me in the right direction, encouraging me to have that _talk_ with Sam. I didn't want to do it, but he had a point. Sam had a right to be happy.

But it was just so _hard_, watching him, day in day out, learning, growing bigger, stronger, faster... kinda like the bionic man, but with more hair. So, like a selfish bastard, I kept putting it off.

The hunts became more serious. More _dangerous_.

No longer were we tracking deer, bear or rabbit; we were moving from state to state hunting strays. It was time for Sam to really prove himself in the field.

And prove he _did_.

Sam ducked and dived, falling into place right beside us, just where he belonged. But my heart was heavy with the possibilities.

One such hunt in particular turned real nasty.

Even I wasn't quite prepared for it.

Sam didn't enjoy the actual kill, tried not to believe it was too late, that a man-eating non-lunar couldn't change. And he kept up that faith, despite everthing he'd seen. He just never stopped trying.

Venice Beach, California. 01:30 in the morning.

The police were everywhere, lights flashing, and sirens wailing, so nobody noticed two guys in dark suits until we were right in their faces, demanding cooperation.

Two young girls mauled to death by a stray dog.

At least that's what the report stated, but we knew better. Flashing fake FBI badges got Tobius and me in to see the bodies, whilst Sam scouted round the area, also in human form, asking questions and making observations. In a thriving population, wolf form was too conspicuous at this stage.

_Mauled _to death.

Never was there a bigger understatement. More like dismembered, half eaten, hearts and throats ripped out, and the claw marks on whatever was left of the poor kids, were a damn sight bigger than a wild dog.

It was a stray alright. _Our_ kind of stray.

The bodies stank of urine, its scent over-powering, like a werewolf staking a claim. And that was some strange behaviour for non-lunar, even a stray. The only time we stake a claim is with our chosen mate, and we mate for life. So unless this was some kinky mating ritual gone drastically wrong, it was a fairly safe bet our stray was completely insane.

Not a comforting prospect.

But it was on leaving the morgue the shit really hit the fan.

_Dean, I've found him. I'm tracking him now._

_Sammy, stay where you are, don't get too close. This one's different._

_Ok, but hurry Dean._

I glanced at Tobius worriedly and he nodded. We headed back to the Impala, locked my clothes in the trunk, then slunk out onto the beach front using the shadows as cover. Now that the die was cast, it was my turn to hunt in wolf form, Tobius the one armed with silver bullets.

Before I joined the hunt, Sire carried a small, fabric-wrapped, silver dagger round his neck on a cord, the hilt shielded with iron. Something I hadn't noticed the night he turned me. The wrapping was soaked in either menthol or oil of cloves, depending on whatever was available to cover the scent of silver. One small tug in the right place, and the wrapping dropped away. Life was much easier for him these days; guns could be silenced, gloves would protect our skin when handling silver bullets, and no one was likely to question a guy out walking his young dog, even in the early hours of the morning. Well, yeah, they might, but Tobius was great at bullshitting his way round the cops.

_Where are ya, Sam?_

_Santa Monica pier._

_Jesus! You must've been moving fast..._ a light pause, and anger reared its head _...I told you to stay in human form! This place is too public to have two damn great wolves runnin' round!_

One wolf we might get away with, but two? Not only would the law get suspicious and call the pound, effectively arresting anything on four legs in sight, but it also ran the risk of tipping off the stray. But, by the sounds of things, we already had.

_Dean, he's gonna attack again._

Tobius laid a hand on the scruff of my neck, giving a light scratch.

_Go get 'im, Dean. I'll be right with you._

I shot off into the night, passed the closed up beach cafes and surf stores, and out onto the sand, taking the most direct route possible, and all the while calling to Sam in my head.

_Sam, you stay the fuck away from him!_

_Sam?_

_SAMMY, ANSWER ME DAMMIT!_

I sped up, head down, ears flattened, tail straight, paws pounding away.

Something appeared in my peripheral vision.

_Tobius, he's not answering!_

The older wolf had caught up, and briefly glanced over.

_He's probably stalking. Give the boy a chance Dean, he's not stupid; let him concentrate on what he's doing._

I almost snarled at that. He was right, but I wasn't ready to let Sam grow up just yet, and besides, I didn't want him getting hurt. He'd been through so much in his young life, and I just wanted to keep him safe.

_Dean. I mean it. Let him handle this. The non-lunar can't really hurt him unless he's carrying silver._

I nearly skidded to halt right then.

_And what about the gun? How the hell __**we**__ gonna take the bastard down? Unless you found a __**real**__ convenient place to shove it?_

Teeth flashed in an amused grin.

_The old fashioned way!_

The small, wrapped dagger swung from its cord around his neck.

I huffed and snorted loudly, tossing my mane, and continued onwards, desperately calling out to my son.

_Dean, it's ok. I'm fine dude, just chill. _But he sounded... subdued... _depressed_ maybe.

_Sammy, where are you?_

_By the carousel._

_Where is that sick sonofabitch?_

_Right here with me, back in human form. I'm talking to him. He's so desperate..._

_You're doing __**what?**_

_I feel pretty sorry for him..._

I nearly had a heart attack right then, and my paws slipped uneasily on the sand, just before I leapt up onto firm concrete.

_He's not the only one you're gonna feel sorry for tonight, you little..._

_Dean! _Tobius nipped painfully on my rear left haunch. _Just hear him out._

And that was when it really hit me. Why Sam hadn't answered me on the desperate run to Santa Monica pier.

I was turning into John Winchester, not listening to Sam, not trusting him.

_No._ Tobius nudged me back over to the shadows. _Not like him. Never like him. You love the kid and worry way too much about him. But you mostly trained him Dean, you need to have faith._

A dark shadow loomed over us, and I glanced up into Sam's tortured face.

_Sammy, what's wrong?_

"He... he _wants_ to die." The kid sniffed miserably. "He hates what he's become. It was kinda forced on him when his family died, killed by non-lunars. He h-hoped... someone would st-stop him..."

I watched, sadly mesmerised, as tears slowly rolled down his face.

"He's so young, Dean!" Sam wailed in distress, and my heart sank. "Only a couple years younger than me.... and so _hungry_..."

Sam knew the rules.

Once a man eater always a man eater. There was no coming back from that; the taste of human blood forever ingrained on the wolf's taste buds, but, more importantly, the weight of human flesh would reside forever in his gut. And that was the real deal clincher.

Likely too young to fend for himself, he took what he could. As with most addictions, he would want more, never to find true satisfaction for his hunger. Of all the potential hunts we would walk into, this was the one I dreaded Sam coming up against the most.

The child-strays were always the hardest to deal with. And there was no such thing as _human_ cold turkey, whatever the age. It just didn't work.

Tobius changed and stood, holding out his hand.

Sam glanced at the tiny dagger and shook his head, backing away.

"I can't... no! There must be another way!"

Tobius just tilted his head, saying nothing. But that look said everything.

The kid's desperate gaze darted between us several times, before finally settling on me.

_It'll be ok, Sammy._

This was Sam's responsibility now.

I was tempted to take his place, do the gruesome job for him, but somehow I knew Sam would refuse. A strange, sad pride in my boy slid sideways into my heart, as I watched the terrible, inner conflict show vividly on his face.

He turned his back; shoulders slumped, and walked away.

We stayed quiet, heard the low murmur of soft voices, followed by a brief whimper and a gurgling noise.

Then absolute silence.

_It was the right thing to do. _Tobius settled his sympathetic gaze on me. _He'll come to understand that in time._

I just prayed he'd never hate us for it.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam was worryingly, yet understandably quiet for some days, sullen, refusing to talk. But when it grew into weeks, I knew something had to give.

We were staying at a hotel in San Francisco, only a few blocks from Pier 39. It was late evening and I knew where he'd gone, sitting on the dock of the bay, watching the tide roll away... yeah a cliché but that's the best way to describe it.

I found myself humming that track as I approached, and stopped abruptly when I saw his tense form in the shadows.

The distant former penal island of Alcatraz loomed in the encroaching darkness, and tourists chattered on by us, searching for the best clam chowder to round off their evening. For a busy city it was actually kinda cool, even peaceful at times, though that wasn't because it was silent. Just the opposite. There was something about the place that _spoke_ to me. Maybe it was the skyline, or the soothing waters that flowed under the Bay Bridge. Who knows?

Sitting down next to him, I'd already prepared my speech to start things off, but the little shit beat me to it.

Thank God.

"I slit his throat, then cut out his heart." Sam, his voice shaky with grief, didn't even turn to look at me. "I know... _he knew_... there was no other choice, ok? So please... just let me deal."

I nodded sadly, still staring out into the Bay, heart sinking. "Y-you... want me to leave you alone?"

Sam swallowed hard, then shook his head. "Nah. It's a great view from here. Be great to share it... ya know?"

He finally turned his head towards me, and I saw the sad acceptance on his face, the need for some kind of reassurance that everything would be ok.

_Yeah. Just for a little while, kiddo. Then it's off to the nearest bar for some beers, ok?_

Sam nodded, relaxing for the first time in weeks.

He even smiled at me a little.

But Sam wasn't quite the same after that, no longer so carefree. It was the very thing I'd been shielding him from, and now the other shoe had dropped.

It was too late to go back.

But he never lost that deep heart, and kind understanding. A part of me wondered if that would become a hindrance to him, that maybe his gentle nature and solid sympathy might get him killed.

But Tobius had a few things to say.

_You know him better than that. Maybe it's not such a bad job for someone like him. A little compassion is often needed. It stops us becoming blood thirsty killers, becoming what we _hunt_._

And as more time and hunts passed by, I grew to realise he was right.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

By the time Sam hit eighteen, he'd become more than just an accomplished hunter; he'd turned hunting into an art form, and anyone privileged enough to get a glimpse of him in action would surely never forget it.

The swift sight of dark red fur, flashing across your vision, blue-green eyes glowing deeply... yeah, he was something special all right.

He was fast losing his trainee status, and becoming an equal.

A force to be reckoned with.

But what really stood out, was his ability to work so well with humans... with _people._

I recall a hunt when I posed as a blind man, desperately searching for his missing daughter. Sam acted as my Seeing Eye dog, and my _God_ he was good. He was all _friendlyhappywannapleaseya, _putting everyone at ease. People just saw him as some damn great handsome young dog, with beautiful, knowing eyes, and couldn't wait to stroke his fur, scratch behind his ears, and generally make a huge fuss of him. And the little shit just lapped it up, groaning in pleasure and rolling on their lush carpets, _even_ when the humans were scared shitless of dogs. I'm pretty sure if we'd ever come across someone in the know about these things, our cover would've been blown. Surely Seeing Eye dogs didn't behave like that?

And I was amazed at what he got away with. It made me laugh, right up until I realised _he_ was getting all the doggy treats. And not just some shitty cut price dog biscuits either, but these people, Sam's adoring public, were actually handing over prime steaks so succulent, they made my mouth water....

_Dude! You're drooling!_

_Shuddup Sam!_

The look on Sam's face suggested he was sniggering at me, so I fix him with a death glare.

"Oh, you poor man. I don't know what else to tell you..." Mrs Hargreaves cried out, dabbing at her eyes, and I shifted my attention back to the poor woman.

Oh, but she sure did. Don't know how Sam managed it, but he fixed those big wide, sympathetic eyes on her, snuffled and nudged his nose under her hand, licking affectionately, and the whole story came flooding out.

A few more visits like that, and we wrapped the case up in one weekend.

The worse thing? When we returned from the hunt, Tobius gave me his best smug look and:

_I told you so._

_Fuck Off!_

The bastard chortled his way into the bathroom.

So yeah, Sam's experience with the child-stray left him saddened and changed, but he was still our Sammy.

Still my boy with the big heart.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

_**And so the angst begins. This is just to wet your appetites, because let me assure you, this is merely just the scrumptious tip of the scrumptious angsty ice berg!**_

_**So lets see those reviews! **_

_**C'mon. Tell me how much you want it! You needy, angst loving, wonderful people!**_

_**Kind regards,**_

_**ST xxx **_


	16. Chapter 16

**Hunter of The Shadows**

**Chapter 16**

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"**So, that was just it. Things were about to get a whole lot more interesting. For all three of us."**

**Dean's back in the kitchen, sitting at the table, chopping carrots. He's seated stance is casual, eyes drawn down in concentration, but a slight scuffling noise in the doorway garners his attention.**

"**Hey Dean?" Sam's out of shot, but there's a hopefulness to his voice that Dean can't help smiling at. "You need a hand with anything?"**

"**Nah, I got this." Dean puts down the vegetable knife and glances over. "Sam, if you don't sit down you'll get blisters on ya hands."**

**Another scuffling noise, and Sammy appears on crutches, struggling to sit down at the table. Dean sighs fondly, gets up and stands behinds the youngster, slipping his arms under Sam's, and gently lowering him into the chair.**

"**Can't get blisters dude," Sam grins his thanks, and flips long strands of hair out of his eyes. "Not unless the handgrips are made of silver." There's a teasing note to Sam's voice.**

"**Smartass." Dean replies with a smirk and hands him another knife. "Here Bullet Boy, make a start on the potatoes and let me get back to the video journal."**

"**Where you up to?" Sam asks, head bent over his task, but looks up again when there's no answer. "Dean?"**

**Dean winces, then fixes Sam with a sad, meaningful gaze.**

"**Oh." Sam's shoulders slump, and he's suddenly looking very guilty and miserable.**

"**It'll be ok Sammy," Dean informs him softly, reaching across the table and gently squeezing the kid's arm. "It'll be ok…"**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Back to the past…**_

Time was, yet again, passing us by so fast it made my head spin. Before I knew it, Sammy was all grown up and ready to take on the world, armed to the teeth with facts, figures, research methods, and… well, _teeth._

Tobius had home schooled Sam for the most part, and an old teacher friend of his had helped out online, marking assignments and exams, monitoring the kid's progress.

It was easier than it sounded. Both Sire and Sammy were scary-bright, and could easily handle lessons between hunts. It was my job to make sure they didn't over do it, and get so stuck into their discussions about calculus, organic chemistry, or modern art, that they forgot to eat.

The teacher friend also proved useful for other related purposes. Sammy needed references, as well as exam grades, to get into college. I couldn't wait to tell him, and Tobius happily agreed to leave it up to me.

Sam was going to get his dream, the one John would most certainly have denied him, and he would get it with our blessing.

Tobius had already quietly sent off for applications forms and brochures, not at all worried about grants. He was more than happy to pay Sam's way, and wanted nothing but the best for his grandson.

Now, ya see? That's where I saw trouble ahead.

Even as a teenager, Sam was way too independent. But that wasn't the main problem, as it turned out.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam just stared at me and I felt the big smile slide off my face.

This wasn't going like I planned. We were back at the cabin after a long absence, taking solace in some peace and quiet, and it felt like the right time to surprise him.

"Well?" I tried not to fidget under that intense gaze. "Ain't ya pleased Sam? I mean, this is what you always wanted right?"

Opening and closing his mouth, even Sam looked mildly surprised when nothing came out.

"To go to college?" I continued, hopefully. "Higher education?"

There was a small part of me that figured Sam was just in shock at getting his wish, but a bigger, more sensible part of me had other ideas.

"Sam? You ok?"

"Uh…" Sam gulped loudly and sank down on the sofa. "I… d-don't know what to say."

I raised an eyebrow and sat next to him, gently bumping his shoulder with mine.

"How 'bout 'Dean, you're the best?' or even 'Dean, you're the coolest werewolf ever?'"

Sam sighed deeply.

Ok, this was worrying.

"C'mon dude, spill. What's up? I thought you wanted this?" Draping an arm round his shoulders, I could feel the tense muscles underneath his shirt. "I mean, all those college pamphlets you used to hide from John and me, all that study, and late nights under the blankets with a flashlight when you thought I was asleep…"

"_That was then!"_ Sam cried out softly, turning to face me properly.

I just blinked in surprise at his outburst, and then he was up, pacing the living room, face twisted with torment.

"Sam… Sammy talk to me." Standing up, I just managed to snag hold of him, keeping the kid still.

"I…" His eyes filled with tears, and he sniffed loudly before dropping his voice to a whisper. "Back then… I-I just wanted to get out. Da-_John_ had no faith in me, no _respect_ for me… I couldn't do anything right in his eyes. As soon as I was old enough, I was gonna apply to study law." He sniffed again and fixed me with a look I immediately understood when he said "knew John would try to stop me anyway he could."

Gently pushing him back down on the sofa, I stared at him, my eyes roaming his face, taking in the firm chin and strong cheekbones. My boy was a good looking kid alright, no denying that, and it sure would've been a great shame for all those pretty college girls to miss out. Before my heart did something stupid, like swell with pride, or ya know, crack right open, I stumbled onwards as best I could.

"Tobius and I talked this over just after I turned you, and we swore we wouldn't stand in your way." Even though my tone was light and non-accusing, Sam's young face still flushed with guilt, and he looked down at his hands. "Whatever it took, we would get you to college, but Sammy… hey, look at me… we ain't gonna force you into something you don't wanna do, all right? I promise. Just tell me what happened, ok? What changed ya mind?"

Sam did that goldfish thing again, before answering.

"I didn't really feel a part of anything. You and John had your own little grownup world, and I was left just watching from the outside, ya know? I tried to bridge that gap, find a way in but… no way was John gonna accept me. I wasn't a good enough hunter." He blinked and bit his lip. "And I thought _one day _that could be me, with my own family and friends, a world I _could_ belong to. A world without hunting. When you left it just made things worse… well, you know that part."

I didn't really know what to say. Everything he just told me made perfect sense. All those years he'd been trying to fit in, furiously researching hunts for us, determined to make us proud. At best, I'd unknowingly stood by and let him feel that way, without truly understanding what he was going through, and just laughing it off as teenage angst. At worst, I'd condemned him to a life of loneliness and self-loathing.

_Aw Sammy… kiddo. I'm so sorry. I never got it 'til now._

Oh yeah, my heart was rocking two and fro, cracks appearing along its fragile shell, like a newborn was ready to hatch out.

Bright eyes blinked at me and a small, kind smile crept onto his face.

_Wasn't your fault, Dean. I'd never blame you… you saved my life, gave back everything John took from me, and more. Things are so different... _better_ now._

It was turning into a conversation we'd had many times before, but I didn't care. Whatever it took.

The kid leaned against me, turning his face into my neck, warm tears dampening my shirt.

_**Please**__ don't make me go. You and Tobius are my family, the kinda family I always wanted. I don't wanna leave you. Please… Dean… don't make me go away…_

Wrapping him up tight in my arms, that newborn was really hammering away at its shell by now, demanding freedom.

"Like I said, we won't make you do anything you don't want. But promise me somethin' huh?" I pulled back and tipped his chin up, my thumb carefully wiping away a stray tear. "No one expects you to make a decision right away, there's plenty of time. But just think about it ok? And remember, whatever you decide to do, wherever you decide to go, we won't be far behind ya runt."

Sam just nodded miserably.

I sensed the subject was closed for now, and went along with it. Instead, we headed out on a hunt, nothing too heavy, more of a relaxing trot through the forest in a companionable silence.

But that didn't mean I was finished.

Not by a long shot.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

It was another few months before the subject came up again, only this time it wasn't my doing.

Oh, and Gerald the werebear helped some. He turned up on our doorstep one afternoon, with a basket full of freshly baked cookies and a big grin.

"Hey guys! Heard you were back! How's the hunting?"

When his wife was working night shifts at the local medical clinic, Gerald often came by for a beer and some company. But something was different this time.

The usually solemn little guy was _unusually_ bright and chirpy, and we soon found out why.

"Josie's pregnant! Can you believe that?" He puffed out his chest proudly. "I'm gonna be a _father_!"

The stupid, happy grin on his face was contagious, and soon even Tobius was grinning away like an idiot. Friendly slaps on the back, and 'congratulations dude!' turned into an all-nighter, which I correctly predicted also turned into some serious hangovers the following morning.

But Gerald didn't seem to care.

"Ya… yaknow…" he slurred out sometime later, possibly after his second beer, proving that Sammy no longer held the esteemed World Light Weight title, "Ibin… Ib… Ibinsavin'…" _hic!_ "kid'sgoin'places…gonnahaveit'smomma'sbrains…" _belch!_ "binsavingforcollegefund…"

Sammy went noticeably quiet at that point. I kinda hoped that was it, but Gerald didn't stop there.

The drunk werebear squinted kindly at Sam with one unfocussed eye, the other fused shut and possibly asleep all on its own.

"Gottagivethekid… chancesIneverhad… yaknow?"

Sam nodded slowly, face unreadable.

"'Cos… 'cos…" Gerald blinked and swayed, before resuming his drunken ramblings, "Ineverhadthebrains… M'Pa… alwaystoldme… toostupid… wontmakenothin'o'meself." _Sniff!_

Ah Jeeze! I'd hoped he wasn't about to cry, but the suspicion of moisture in Gerald's eyes told me that out of Hope, Faith and Charity, I wasn't getting laid by the first sister anytime soon.

"Gonnabeater-ter-terriblefather…" Sure enough, the waterworks let go, and he sobbed miserably.

_Ok. Awkward._

Gerald was also getting harder to understand, though Sam didn't seem to have any problems.

"You're not stupid," Sam spoke quietly, "and you're gonna be a great Dad. You're already thinking of your child's future, and that counts for something." I glanced over when I felt Sam's eyes on me, and smiled, heart wedged in my mouth. "That counts for a _lot._"

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Something changed that night. But the following morning brought its own complications.

I was about to wake our guest with some much needed coffee when…

Loud banging on the front door, followed by "Gerald? GERALD!" had Gerald waking up with a loud pig-like snort, and falling off the couch. Scrambling up, and tripping over the blanket Tobius had covered him with shortly after he passed out, Gerald went down with a loud thud.

"GERALD! I know you're in there!"

I'd never met his wife Josie, and I sure wasn't keen to. She sounded like the very epitome of 'bear with a sore head', and Gerald seemed to be very much under her thumb.

But I was in for a shock.

Opening the door, and plastering on my most charming of smiles, I froze.

Josie was not only a real beauty, but had the sweetest, most heart warming smile I'd ever laid eyes on. Come to think of it, she hadn't sounded _that_ angry…

"Hi, you must be Dean!" She held out a tiny delicate hand, brown eyes twinkling kindly. "I'm Gerald's wife, Josie…" she looked passed me and her smile widened. "There you are! You silly great bear of a man."

And I guess he was, compared to her tiny frame at any rate.

She held something up. "Forget something last night?"

It was two six packs of beer, and Gerald grinned sheepishly.

"Uh… yeah," he approached the door and patted my shoulder apologetically.

"Don't tell me you drank these guys out of house and home?" His wife tutted good naturedly, and pressed the beers into my hands. "Here. Take these in exchange. Next time he forgets his part in Boy's night? You send him right on home to fetch it."

I couldn't help but smile back. "That's real kind of you ma'am."

"Oh please! Call me Josie, everyone else does." That smile again! Wow! One that could launch a thousand ships.

"You wanna come in? We were just about to have breakfast," I asked, grinning from ear to ear. I was _such_ a gentleman these days. And I was _so_ not hitting on my neighbour's wife. My very _pregnant_ neighbour's wife.

"I'd _love_ some!" She exclaimed delightedly.

And besides, I noticed, as Josie took a seat on the sofa beside her husband, she was obviously deeply in love with Gerald. He sure was one lucky guy!

The smell of frying bacon and scrambling eggs wafted out of the kitchen, and pretty soon we were joined by a slightly worse for wear Sammy.

"'Mornin' Sam,"

"_Hunnnnuuhhhhh…_"

I figured that was as good an answer as any.

"Here ya go," Scooping up generous servings of eggs for everyone, I could faintly hear Tobius singing happily in the shower, and shook my head, grinning. The guy never suffered from hangovers, yet Sam comes from completely the other end of the scale, with me lying somewhere in between.

Presumable, the shower door opened, because the singing suddenly increased in volume.

"_OOOOk-lahoma, __where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain,  
__And the wavin' wheat can sure smell sweet, __When the wind comes right behind the rain…"_

I cringed with embarrassment.

Tobius? Great guy. Brilliant mind. Superb hunter. Wonderful grandfather.

_Sucky_ taste in music.

And judging by the disgusted look on Sam's face, my equally brilliant son was thinking the same thing.

"Just shut it out Sam, don't let it get to ya, ok kid?" I deadpanned, causing Josie and Gerald to giggle like children. "Seriously, psychotherapy's expensive these days. I don't wanna have to sell my body again!" I added with a cocky waggle of an eyebrow, then nearly panicked when I realised what I'd just told him.

But Sam virtually snorted scrambled eggs out his nose in laughter, and took a hurried swig of decaf.

Ok, so it wasn't far from the truth, but it made a good joke so long as Sammy didn't know that. As I once said in an earlier journal entry, there ain't nothing I wouldn't do for that kid.

"'O'course, I'd have to book up the entire week, might even have to turn people away," I was prepared to carry it on as long as Sam was laughing. "They'd queue up round the block, the cops might have to move people on…"

"Yeah right!" Sam laughed loudly and forked a piece of bacon. He'd obviously missed the implications of my joke. I guess, sometimes, hangovers are a blessing.

"What's all the noise about?" Tobius poked his head round the door, hair damp from the morning shower, and a large grin appeared when he spotted the extra guest. "Josie! Lovely to see you. You look radiant darling!"

Josie batted her eyelashes and laughed.

"Why, you flatter me kind sir!"

_Yeah Tobius, ya smooth talking bar steward!_

_Glad to hear you curbing your language around a lady for once, Dean._

"Oh you don't need to worry 'bout that Dean, honey," Josie smiled knowingly, "I'm only a few hundred years younger than Tobius, so I've pretty much seen and heard it all!"

Sam and I gaped.

"Really?" Turning to Gerald I gazed at him admiringly, "Dude! You're a fucking _toyboy!_"

I really couldn't blame the guy for the smug grin, as he replied:

"Damn straight!"

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Yeah, something had changed all right.

Sitting round the dinner table later that evening, after the werebears excused thenselves, we ate in a comfortable silence, most of the conversation taking place in our heads. It was at this point when Sam's thought processes interrupted with a question. One which, for some weird reason, had never once crossed my mind to ask.

_Tobius? Are we the first?_

All movement ceased, and Tobius slowly put down his knife and fork, leaving his roast lamb half finished.

He cleared his throat, looking a little nervous.

"How exactly do you mean _the first_?"

Sam bit his lip, and I could see he was already regretting the question.

"A-are we the first humans you've turned?" Sam gulped slightly before continuing. "Or are there others out there like us?"

Tobius seemed to think about that, and I wondered if Sam had over-stepped the mark.

"No. You're not the first, exactly. But I did once have a birth child of my own." Something akin to deep sadness crossed his face, and I could even swear there was a glimmer of heartbreak in his eyes. But his voice remained calm and solid. "Around four hundred years ago, I fell for an enchanting young lady, and as luck would have it, she also fell for me. But Lady Anna was already betrothed... to a human. For the sake of her safety... and that of our unborn child, I was forced to leave."

Sam and I were both stunned into silence, whilst Tobius took a deep shaky breath.

"Unfortunately, her new husband never believed he was the father, in spite of Anna's insistence, and the child grew up in a home filled with hate and sadness. As soon as I received word of my daughter's birth, something inside me snapped. I had to get back to them both. I travelled for weeks on horseback, but by the time I arrived, it was already too late. Anna... was dead. They claimed she'd fallen from her bedroom window..." Tobius let that trail off, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to understand his suspicions.

Sam looked away, eyes bright with tears.

I just sat there, still stunned.

"What about your daughter? Did you go to her? Take her away with you?" I asked tentatively, though I'd guessed the answer from the anger on the guy's face.

"I tried, but the bastard wouldn't let her go." Tobius stared at nothing. "He _knew_. He could've let us leave together... but he was... " and I'm pretty sure he stifled a sob. And that was the point I really understood there'd be no hope for me if anything happened to Sammy.

I'd never seen so much anguish in Father's eyes when he continued.

"He had the entire township rising up against _all_ werewolves... and guess who was the first example put to death?" He paused, then added with a short, curt nod, "Publically."

Hands twisting, sweat breaking out on his forehead... I guessed what this revelation was costing him. And a tiny part of me knew I'd never completely understand; Tobius had revealed as much as he was ever going to. This was his own personal heartbreak.

There wasn't much more to say.

Sammy, face strained against holding in the tears, quietly excused himself and left the room.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

_**Was just watching Australia, and it reminded me why I picked Hugh Jackman to 'play' Tobius La Salle. I hope you will all agree that he's an excellent choice for our enigmatic, and compassionate non-lunar werewolf. And he would have had a great on-screen chemistry with our favourite boys, especially as he puts me in mind of an older Dean. And then there's the thought of seeing him with his shirt off... **_

_**... oh baby!**_

_**All **_**three**_** of them with their shirts off. Now that's a 12 month calendar I'd pay good money for!**_

_**Cheers again darlings.**_

_**Kind regards,**_

_**ST xxx**_


	17. Chapter 17

**Hunter of The Shadows**

**Chapter 17**

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**Dean stops talking and glances at Sam, sensing the heavy atmosphere.**

"**You sure you wanna be here for some of this?"**

**Sam puts down the potato peeler, and just stares at the table.**

"**Do... uh... dya think Tobius ever found anyone else after Anna? I mean, he never said if he ever got married." He frowns sadly at that. "To go all those years, those **_**centuries**_** alone...**

**Blowing out a gentle breath, Dean sits back and considers that.**

"**I just don't know. But hey!" A hand reaches out and grasps the kid's shoulder. "Given all that's happened? I can't blame you for wondering about it. But if he did, then it was a choice he made. Doesn't mean that's gonna happen to you, kiddo."**

**Sam lifts his head to stare at Dean.**

"**I'm not so sure, Dean. If that was his decision, then I can understand why." The stare grows intense. "But what about you? Don't **_**you**_** wanna find someone to settle down with?"**

"**What the hell for? Too many beautiful girls out there, dude, and I got an eternity to meet them all!" Dean smirks, and seems genuinely amused. "The whole point of sex is survival of the species, right? Carrying on the bloodline?" His voice softens, affectionately, when he sees that Sam really doesn't get it. "Why would I need someone, **_**just one person**_**, to have kids with, when I already have the best son in the world? And a son of my bloodline at that."**

**Sam blushes and smothers a grin. He's clearly still not used to hearing Dean talk like this. Even after all these years.**

"**Just get on with the story, Jerk." Sam offers Dean a soft, kind of half smile that tells all.**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**And... back we go again...**_

"Here," I held out a mug of hot cocoa, "with extra cinnamon, just how you like it."

Sam smiled his thanks, and nodded.

We were sitting out by a large log pile, or at least Sammy had been. I'd watched him chopping logs, taking out his frustrations on the poor helpless wood with each swing of the axe. I figured if I didn't force him to take a break pretty soon there wouldn't be much left of the forest.

It seemed he wasn't gonna be the one to open the discussion, so I took the initiative with my usual tact and diplomacy.

"So, you thought any more about college?" Keeping my voice low and casual, I gazed out at the view across the mountains.

Yeah, bad start – spent too long around Tobius - but can ya really blame me? I just want what's best for my boy.

Sam tensed up immediately, and my heart sank.

"You know my answer to that." He sipped at his cocoa, elbows on knees, eyes cast down somewhere near his feet.

After our last conversation, and the inadvertent advice from Gerald, I really hoped he'd changed his mind. The kid had worked so damn hard, scored some shit-hot exam results, and all for nothing?

I couldn't let him just throw it all away, the future he wanted so bad, the chance to shine like he truly deserved.

"Sammy..."

"It's _Sam_."

I blinked, and tried to conceal my shock at his rough, angry tone.

"Fine, _Sam_. Don't you think you're being a little hasty about all this?" I stood up, and stared down at him, arms crossed. "Have you even _thought_ about it? I mean, seriously."

"I've thought about it," he insisted without looking up, but his low voice was softened a little as he shook his head. "I just...." Sam huffed in frustration.

"What?" Crouching down and forcing him to look at me, I stared at the kid, imploring him to answer. "Come on. We need to talk about this."

Sam remained silent for a long moment, and I felt my own frustration building.

"I'm not letting this go kid, now quit ignoring the question."

Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily.

"I don't wanna leave, Dean." Finally, he raised pleading eyes to mine. "I _told_ you why, so please don't ask me again."

This was getting stupid, and a spark of anger ignited inside my gut at the kid's stubbornness.

"That's not a good enough excuse, Sam." I tried to control my voice, to keep it reasonable, but Sam must have heard the animosity loud and clear. Giving up the pretence of cool, calm and collected, I stood and paced slowly. "You owe it to yourself to try. Hell! You owe it to Tobius and me! John wouldn't have even considered it for a moment, but we, _your family_, are willing to make that sacrifice for you. Can _you_ say the same?" Inwardly, I winced at the cheap shot.

The kid leapt to his feet and rounded on me.

"Is that what it comes down to, huh?" Sam barked back angrily. "This all about some fucking _debt_? 'Cos you saved my life, you think that gives you the right to _control_ it? Like you fucking _own_ me now?"

I ignored that and treated it with the contempt it deserved.

"_I_ know what this is all about." I stepped up and jabbed him in the chest with an index finger. "You're scared of failure. You're scared shitless that you'll actually prove John right!"

The blood drained from Sam's face, leaving it washed out and pale.

"You sonofabitch!" He whispered, eyes brimming with tears.

But I couldn't afford to let it get to me. One way or another, we were gonna resolve this.

"That's it isn't it?" I demanded, getting right in his face. "And by not going, you're giving up. By not even _trying,_ you're already letting him win! It's not about me Sam; it's about John still controlling you from beyond the grave! He broke you, badly, and believe me kid, I get that. I know what he did to your self-esteem, and you've worked so damn hard to claw back what he took from you, _and I won't stand aside and just let you waste away!_"

Sam's froze, face in a bitter, angry snarl. When he replied it was as though he hadn't heard a word I'd said. Avoidance tactics. Classic Winchester, in fact.

"If you want me gone so badly, why did you even bother turning me?" He growled, then his voice grew in volume. "Am I that much of a burden to you Dean? Are you so tired of me hanging around like some unwanted sidekick, that you're happy to just pack me off to school? Why save my life in the first place, huh? You had the chance to be free of me. _You should have left me to die!_"

The red mist descended.

Next thing I knew, Sammy was struggling and flinching, back pressed hard against the cabin's outer wall, my fist raised in readiness.

I've felt anger before, but this time was different. Sheer rage coursed through me, with fear and remorse riding shotgun.

How could he say that? How could he even _think _it?

I was out of control with grief, images of Sammy dying right in front of me, and I couldn't stand it.

_I just couldn't..._

I froze when I realised what was happening, and lowered my fist.

But it was too late. Sam twisted sharply, ducked under and out, and was free of my grip in a flash.

I couldn't believe what I was about to do. No wonder he was scared.

"Sam... kiddo..." I pleaded softly. But he just stared at me, glassy eyes wide with fear and shock. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean... please, don't go..."

The kid backed away, slowly at first, breathing hitched and heavy, and I realised he was no longer seeing _me_. Body shivering, sweat clinging to his brow, Sam started shaking his head frantically, and it didn't take a genius to figure out just who he _was_ seeing.

"No... stay away from me!"

Hands raised, palms out in surrender, I risked a step forward, but he just shrank away.

"Sam... it's ok. I'm not gonna hurt you."

The wild look in his eyes confirmed every suspicion that John still very much had a hold over him. Question was, why had I let it get this far? How had I allowed it to go this deep? And now the poor kid was afraid of me.

Can't really blame him for that. In his eyes, I'd been a hair's breadth away from becoming John.

"Please... Sam, I'm sorry, ok?" Keeping eye contact and whispering softly, I risked another step forward. "I'd never hurt you kiddo, I just got scared is all."

The next step ruined it all, when my foot came down on a twig, the loud snap rolling round the clearing and bouncing off the cabin's outer walls. Sam flinched and the next thing I knew, he was gone, silently racing through the forest.

"Shit!" There was nothing else I could do, so I took off after him.

There was no doubt that some kind of post-trauma related stress had been triggered off in Sam's mind. We'd never really talked about those six months he spent in John's 'care', mainly 'cos Tobius didn't think it would help, re-hashing old ground. But he didn't know Sammy like I did, and I guess I should've listened to my gut instincts. Tobius meant no harm, but the kid was clearly buckling under the weight of John's anger and judgment.

Hell! Who am I to talk? _I_ hadn't really seen it 'til now!

The time had come to find out exactly what that judgment had done to Sam.

I was determined to track the kid down, and make him talk, 'cos neither of us could go on like this.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_Sammy! C'mon buddy, talk to me!_

His clothes had been left in a heap under some low hanging branches, and after that it became almost impossible to find him. And not because I couldn't catch his scent.

Oh no.

Just the opposite.

I could smell the little shit everywhere.

He must have darted back and forth, circled and back tracked, leaving false trail after false trail. I knew the kid was good, but this showed real talent, and under other circumstances I would've felt proud as hell. He must have been watching for us, moving on silently from cover to cover, waiting for the right moment.

_Dean. He's laid this trail as one big cover, to hide out until he can down for the night without danger of discovery. _Yeah, Tobius was on the same wavelength._ It might be wise to leave him alone for a while. Give him some time to think._

Tobius had joined me as soon as he heard my distress. Guilt covered him like a blanket, and as tempting as it was, I couldn't bring myself to blame him. I wasn't his first attempt at having a family, as I already mentioned, and the last time hadn't worked out so well for him. Sam, great kid that he is, was definitely a challenge.

It surprises me even now, given our telepathic abilities, how wrong werewolves can read each other sometimes.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

After a few hours, his scent was growing cold. Every paw print was like a false horizon, promising the journey's end, only to lead down another blind alley.

A weak feeling in the pit of my stomach sped up my search, nosing under every shrub, sniffing round every tree, desperately searching for him. Paranoia was taking me down hard and fast, and hope was fading.

Supposing he'd taken off for good? What if I'd scared him so badly he'd never trust me again?

What if I _never saw him again?_

_Please Sammy, don't go. Not like this._

But there was no answer. I scrambled over stream beds and rocks, stumbled up steep slopes, nose to the ground, sniffing frantically.

_Think about it._ Tobius' voice of reason broke through my rapidly building panic. _This whole argument started because he _**didn't **_want to leave you. He's just a little freaked at the moment. He'll calm down. Once he's had time to think._

It was the second time he'd hinted at giving Sam some space, but as usual I couldn't leave it at that_. _I could, however, reach a compromise.

_Yeah, I know. I just wanna make sure he's ok, then we'll leave him alone. For now._

There came a brief flash of green eyes glowing with proud approval, just before Tobius moved through a patch of undergrowth and disappeared from sight. I stopped, raised my head and sniffed the air. Our height above sea level was steadily increasing, and Sam's scent still lingered on the light breeze. Dusk was approaching, a few stars twinkling through the gloom, but that wasn't what bothered me; Tobius knew the lie of the land round here but Sammy didn't, and it was easy to lose yourself, especially if you'd run yourself ragged covering your tracks.

Another strong sniff and… something… a snuffle along the ground, large paw prints in the dirt here and there… it was Sam all right, but the scent was slightly fresher, stronger...

_Tobius! I think I've found him!_

I set off again, the pace fast and furious; barely halting to leap over fallen trees and ditches, or snuffle the ground.

_I hear you. Be careful out here Dean; the ground grows rocky and treacherous the higher we climb._

I was hardly listening. My heart was pounding loud enough to wake the dead as I gathered speed, racing across the rough terrain, Sammy's scent stronger than ever. There was a rocky outcrop ahead, and just beyond it I could spy the shadow of some kind of cave or overhang.

He was there! I felt him, felt his fear and hurt…

_Sammy, don't be afraid…_

_No! Stay away… leave me alone…_

_I'm not gonna hurt you buddy. I just wanna make sure you're ok._

_Why would you care? You want me to leave anyhow!_

_That's not true, Sam._

_That's why you've been pushing me away._

_Not pushing you! Just want you to be happy!_

_How can I be happy living apart from my only family-_

He was abruptly cut off, and I heard a loud yelp and a scrabbling noise. Loose shale tumbled out and rolled down over the edge of what was gradually revealed to be a steep drop. I imagined Sam backing away, hiding in the shadows of his makeshift shelter.

As I got closer, I noticed a few things. It seemed the ground underfoot wasn't all that stable. Now I understood what Tobius meant by treacherous.

_Sammy? You ok?_

_Dean, get away from here. _He was sounding panicked now. _I think there's gonna be a rockslide. I don't trust it._

_I'll be ok. Just stay calm. I'm coming to get you out._

_No! It's too dangerous! You have to turn back!_

_That's right, it _is_ dangerous, so stay away from the edge kiddo and take it easy._ I kept my voice a little cocky and cheerful for his sake, though in truth I was feeling anything but. The way ahead was on a steep slope that cut off abruptly a few feet down. Anyone foolish enough to try the crossing without some kind of safety harness would likely not survive it.

But for werewolves, being as sure-footed as mountain goats, it was a piece of cake. If not, that was, for the possibility of this entire side of the mountain taking a nosedive. In fact, I could already feel a subtle trembling, as the mountainside fought the pull of gravity.

Picking my way across to the outcrop and peering round, I could see him lying on the rocky ground of the small cave, muzzle resting on his paws, body quivering with fear.

_Can you see me Sam? I'm right here buddy, just keep your eyes on me._

Sam raised his head, blue-green eyes glowing in the murky darkness like a willow the wisp.

_Yeah, I see ya._

_Tobius? You round here?_

A soft noise on the track behind me and Tobius appeared in my peripheral vision.

_Well, well, well. _He surmised rather dryly. _You two certainly have a nasty habit of getting into quite a pickle._

I resisted the urge the roll my eyes.

_Gee thanks. Real helpful._

But Tobius either didn't hear, or was deliberately ignoring my sarcastic retort. He was studying the surrounding area carefully, eyes darting round, taking in every detail.

_Right. See that track? Runs right up the side of the outcrop? More like a rabbit run than a path._

I narrowed my eyes and followed his line of sight.

_Yeah. _This looked promising. _If I can get up there, I can pull Sam out. 'Course we'll both have to change to human form for the climb, then back again to make our way across. Sammy?_

_Yeah, I can do that. Been practicing rapid changes._

_That's ma boy._

I felt a painful nip on my left haunch. Yelping loudly, I turned on Tobius.

_What the hell was that for?_

Green eyes flared briefly in the darkness.

_I will get him out…_

I growled angrily, deep in my throat.

_No-_

_I mean it Dean. I'm not going to risk both of you getting hurt, and besides, I know this area like the back of my paw. _He fixed me with a no-nonsense gaze, halting any further argument.

I hung my head, defeated. But I couldn't resist grumbling.

_S'not like we can _die_ ya know._

_Dean… do as you're told!_

_Yes Sire._

A brief friendly nudge with his nose, and he was bounding gracefully away.

_You ok Sam?_

_Yeah. Uh… I'm sorry Dean. Didn't mean to land in trouble like this. Place seemed so safe when I first got here. I just wanted somewhere to lay low and… and…_

I heard his huff of frustration.

_Yeah kid, I know._

_So… you're not mad at me anymore?_ His thoughts sounded so small and worried, like a chastised eight year old, I couldn't help but smile.

_Aw Sammy, _I answered sadly. _I was never angry with you. I just know how badly you wanted to make something of your life, and you've worked so hard. No. It's John I'm mad at, kiddo. He could've got some help to deal with all this, from Bobby Singer, Pastor Jim, Caleb… but he just brushed them off. Result? He lost his way completely. But what I can't forgive him for, is nearly taking you with him._

A small loaded silence made me hold my breath.

_Thanks Dean._

_You're welcome kiddo._

Sam sat up, rear paw coming up to scratch lazily behind an ear.

_Dya think those guys ever wonder what happened to us? And to John?_

I blew out a breath through my snout, and shook my mane.

_I don't know Sam. Maybe. I'm pretty sure they don't know anything though, not unless they ran into Gordon, and it's not likely they'd believe anything _he_ says._

A brief silence descended, and we heard Tobius moving further up the small track. He was almost there.

_D-do you… uh… really think I could make it to college?_

I blinked in surprise. Sam was finally admitting his fears.

_No doubt in my mind, kid._

_Ok. Get ready to change Sa-_

Tobius was cut off as the rocky face trembled violently, and began to give way. Neither Tobius nor Sam had time to change, and the elder werewolf merely extended his jaw and snapped a hold of the scruff of Sam's neck, the kid yelping loudly in pain.

_Sammy!_

Tobius pulled back quickly, and effortlessly dragged Sam up and away from the crumbling cave, the young wolf swinging violently from his jaws. He didn't stop there, merely dropped Sam to the ground and roughly pushed him into a run, heading back down the rabbit path, the rock falling away beneath their paws. By time they made it down, the entire outcrop was gone, the only evidence it had ever existed were the gouges and fresh scars in the rock.

My heart, finally slipping back down from my mouth, was beating hard in my chest, where it belonged.

_Jesus guys! I nearly made it as the first werewolf ever to suffer a heart attack _and_ crap himself at the same time!_

Sam chuckled softly in my head, and I felt sure Tobius was about to add some dry, smart-assed comment, but he didn't get the chance.

They were about twenty feet from me and on the approach, when the ground beneath my paws shifted, loose shale beginning to slide alarmingly. I tried to jump clear, but with a sudden, frightening sweep, it took me with it.

A loud involuntary howl was wrenched from my mouth, and just as soon drowned out by the roar of falling rocks.

The last thing I remember was seeing Sam and Tobius leaping forward, desperately trying to grab me. But even I could see they were too far away.

_DEEAANNNNN!!!!!_

_Saaammmyyyy…_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

_**Oh dear. What have I done?**_

_**MMMWWWHAHAHAHA!**_

_**Warning! Serious pimping coming up!**_

_**I've just started up a fan fiction community for Hunter of the Shadows. You can find it under my profile.**_

_**It's called The Winchester Werewolf Chronicles: Shades of Night. **_

_**Many thanks go out to Vonnie and Darksupernatural, who between them pretty much named this 'verse for me.**_

_**Well done to the ace author Phx, who is the first to submit a fic for this 'verse. Go check it out and tell her your thoughts. I think the lady's done an awesome job!**_

_**So, drabbles, tags, missing scenes, full on full-length fics, one-shots, you name it. Have a go and start posting! The rules are fairly simple and you'll find them when you get there.  
This is our support group for the end of season 4, and most likely for the end of season 5. I think we'll all need it once the show's over, and we can at least write our own happy endings for the boys.**_

Spread the word anyway you can!

_**Another pimp:**_

_**Summer fic exchange is coming up, thanks to the wonderful Faye Dartmouth and Sendintheclowns, so go check it out on live journal:**_

"At the end of the fourth season, Sam Winchester is having a bad go of things. His failure is epic, but his intentions inherently noble. Things don't look so good for our favourite geekboy, so it's time to show him just how loved he is.

The project is simple: fic that celebrates Sam Winchester. We need fic to highlight how awesome Sam is on every level. His strength, his courage, his angst, his sacrifice, his smarts, his hunting skills--you name it, we want to celebrate it. We thought the best way to do this would be in the form of a fic exchange. The process will be straightforward (and not nearly as complicated as it looks!).

So, get the word out. This summer, let's remind each other and the rest of fandom just how awesome Sam Winchester is."

_**I'm all for that! Sam needs some love, and we're the only ones who can give it to him. **_

_**The show obviously isn't going to!**_

_**Kind regards,**_

_**ST xxx**_


	18. Chapter 18

**Hunter of The Shadows**

**Chapter 18**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**For Phx and Sendintheclowns, in thanks for all their help, and our mutual love of Winchester Wolf Snuggles.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"**Gotta say," Dean's at the counter, pouring coffee, "not one of my greatest moments, freefalling from a sheer rock face." He shudders dramatically. "Damn near pissed myself!"**

**Sam snorts loudly. **

"**You can come clean ya know. Weren't exactly a picnic for me, watching it happen and all, so I guess you could be forgiven." But the youngster's barely holding back a grin. "Least you were in wolf form huh? No change of underwear needed."**

"**Dude. Please." Dean turns and raises an eyebrow at him rather pointedly.**

**His intonation suggests he is **_**way **_**too cool for that.**

**And Sam just shakes his head, laughing softly.**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Back again...**_

It was dark.

Wherever I was, it was _really_ damn dark.

Not only that, but it was close quarters, like I'd been shut in someone's wardrobe, with the added bonus of various sized coat hangers poking and prodding me with every attempted move.

I soon gave up trying and just lay still. Hurt too damn much to move anyhow.

Oh yeah, and someone had apparently dropped a heavy suitcase on me from a great height, because the damn thing felt like it was crushing the shit outta me.

Had no idea what the hell happened, but I think there was some kind of evil pixie inside my head, trying to chisel its way out.

Little bastard!

But worse than that, I was gradually beginning to realise that my legs hurt. All four of them.

In fact, they didn't just hurt…

Pain was building up, like it'd been saving itself especially for me when I awoke. It turned from aching purple, to angry red, and pretty soon I was all the way through the entire spectrum, and arriving at white hot _agony_.

My head began to spin, slowly at first, then increasing in speed, like a fairground ride, the kind that has you screaming with fear, and then spraying the occupants of the next car with your own vomit.

Speaking of which.

_Noooo… can't…_ I didn't know which way was up, and, though, technically I couldn't choke to death on my own puke, it wasn't a concept I was particularly anxious to experience.

_Dean?_ A scrabbling noise from above had my ears twitching. _Dean, can you hear me?_

_Huh?_ I knew that voice, but my head was so fuzzy with pain, I couldn't identify it.

_Tobius! I think I found Dean! I can hear him!_

_Tobius… know that name._ Pieces of a puzzle were starting to appear, but didn't seem all that inclined to fit together. _Or is that just me? Hmm... not sure... who am I again?_

_Over here! Tobius, quickly… he don't sound too good._

_Calm yourself young Sam. He might be injured but he won't die, not unless there's silver in these mountains._

I got the impression there was a joke in there somewhere.

_Could there be?_ Sam's thoughts sounded genuinely scared, but Tobius just laughed softly.

_Not to my knowledge, young pup._

And _wham!_ Those pieces of puzzle slammed together, revealing its secrets. Tobius, and Sam… I was falling away, tumbling into darkness, leaving them behind…

_Sammy! You ok? _my mind called out weakly. I noticed with relief that my legs were going numb, the pain gradually subsiding. Unfortunately, it meant that the pounding in my head grew louder.

_M'fine…_ It sounded like Sam was straining, physically exerting himself, and I felt my surroundings shift slightly. _Almost… hold on Dean, we're gonna get you out of there._

_Uh… that's great Sammy._ I thought right back at him rather tiredly. _You wanna tell me exactly where _there_ is?_

_Damnit… this rock's too heavy._

_Let me try._

Their voices were swimming together by now, and I couldn't tell one from the other. That feeling of being back on the fairground ride was sweeping over me once again, just as a shaft of dim light broke through from overhead.

It was then that I realised I was buried alive, one of my biggest all time fears, and I couldn't hold back any longer.

I heaved violently, bile flooding my mouth and spilling over. And it _hurt_, so damn _much_. My gut felt like it was caught in a vice, and my head spun round in time to each pulsing movement. Didn't help I could taste blood in there somewhere.

So busy upchucking, I didn't notice I'd been uncovered until a large hand swept gently over my ears, accompanied by a voice softened in sympathy.

"Easy my son. You're going to be ok."

Now that my tomb had been dismantled, I could see Tobius and Sam, both in human form, staring down at me with a good deal of concern. I was lying on my side, front legs sprawled out and bent at awkward angles.

Yep. They were broken all right. No doubt about it. And by the feel of things so were my rear legs.

_Hey guys. _I managed, tongue hanging out in a feeble grin. _Fancy running into you two... all the way up here._

"Don't you mean _down_ here?" Tobius muttered, still running a hand over me, checking for other injuries.

_Whatever_.

I raised my head a little with a tiny, embarrassing whimper, only to look over and find my lower half still buried in rock. My eyes widened, but I somehow managed to keep my cool for Sam's sake. No sense in the both of us freaking out. The kid had been mostly silent since uncovering me, and I could see he was in shock.

_So you guys gonna get me outta here? I'm hungry._

Food was actually the last thing on my mind, especially after emptying my gut less than a few minutes ago, but it seemed to keep Sam calm. Though he was still staring at me, eyes dark with worry and guilt.

_Hey Sammy, _my mind whispered softly, and I extended my snout, gently nudging against him. _You with me kiddo? This ain't your fault, ok? I'm gonna be fine kiddo._

Ok, I wasn't walking out of here until I was fully healed, but heal I would. As soon as my back legs were freed up.

Sam tried so hard to smile, mouth trembling as he gazed down at me, but I could see the tears forming.

_Hey. It's all right. Werewolf remember? Great powers of rejuvenation and all that?_

Tobius spoke up, voice almost apologetic.

"You have some quite severe internal injuries, Dean. But they'll clear up soon enough so long as you stay still." He shifted his weight a little, then indicated the huge pile of rock burying my legs. "But we're going to need help with this."

Tobius ruffled my fur gently with a small smile, then turned to Sam.

"I'm going to find Gerald. This should be no problem for a big brute like him." He smiled kindly at his distraught grandson. "I want you to take care of Dean for me, ok? Make sure he doesn't move. Try and get him to eat something if you can; feeding will help speed up the healing process."

Sam, still silent, nodded his head jerkily.

_I-I c-can do th-that._

Tobius squeezed the back of the kid's neck gently.

_I know you can._

He turned, changed, and was gone, leaping away into the starlit night.

Sam leaned over me, running a hand through my fur. It felt nice, comforting, taking my mind off the pain for a while. But then, Sammy's always had the knack.

_You in any pain?_

I snorted softly, about to deliver some throw away, tough-guy remark, but the look on his face made me swallow the lie. The look that said he could see right through me.

_A little… yeah… a lot in fact. _

And this was just what I was afraid of. A break down, panic and fear pulling down the shades and exposing all the raw emotion underneath.

Only it wasn't as I suspected.

It was _me_.

I was the one breaking, the pain, finally off the leash, pounding through my body.

And as I began to whimper and whine softly, Sam was the one who remained stoic and calm.

_It's ok Dean. Tobius'll be back before we know it. Just take it easy and breathe. Breathe with me… nice… deep… and slow. That's it, just relax…_

Kid was some kind of miracle worker. I could feel the pain receding into the background as a dull throb. Not perfect, but definitely an improvement.

It was hard to stay awake, with Sammy's soft voice in my head. His hand was stroking my ears, lulling me into an almost dreamlike state, and I huffed softly through my snout in contentment, eyelids sliding slowly to half-mast, then finally closed.

_Thhhaannkksss Sssaammmyyy…_

_I'm just glad you're safe, dude..._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

When I woke up, my head wasn't nearly so fuzzy and my front legs were only lightly throbbing. I shifted my muzzle, realised Sam was missing, and began running my gaze over the surrounding area.

_Sam? You here somewhere, kiddo? Sammy!_

I was breathing in short, sharp pants, panic building up again… suppoing there'd been another rockslide... supposing Sammy was caught in it this time...

_S'ok Dean. I was just getting some food._

Sam appeared, in wolf form, something large dangling from his mouth. It was so large in fact, Sam's front paws were tangling with it, almost tripping the young werewolf as he bounded clumsily over the fallen rocks, then dropped it beside me.

I stared hard at it. From my position on the ground, lying on my side, I could swear it was a…

_Sammy? Please don't tell me that's a skunk._

He fidgeted nervously.

_Ok. It's not a skunk._ Sam blinked. _It's a _big_ fucking skunk._

I growled menacingly, not that I was much of a threat, what with being trapped beneath like a ton of rock.

_Dude! I'm not eating skunk. There's gotta be some kind of werewolf lore against it, or something. I mean… it's just not _cool!

Sam gazed down, imploring me to understand.

_It was all I could find nearby. Sorry dude. I didn't wanna leave you for too long._

But there was something else going on here. Another shift, like the one I felt when Gerald was talking about sending his unborn child to college. A change, something was different…

I suddenly realised what it was, and my heart damn near melted.

Sam had _killed._ Sam had hunted, taken that dreaded final step, and _killed._

And he'd done it for me.

Even now, unaware of what was running through my mind, Sam was pushing the fresh kill towards me with his nose, but I could see how hungry the scent of fresh blood made him.

_You have some too kiddo. _I gazed up at him, from my helpless position beneath the rubble.

_C'mon Dean, _his mind whispered gently yet insistently, _eat up. You need it more than I do right now. I can always get more._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

I don't know how much time had passed when I caught Tobius and Gerald's scent. Sammy had curled himself around me, thick, bushy tail wrapping my belly, his neck pillowing my head, keeping me still, but so snug and warm I couldn't bring myself to mind too much.

_They're here. _Sam snuffled, gently nipping at one of my ears when I grunted in agreement. _You ok?_

_M'fine. It's nice out here, ya know? Stars, wolf skin rug, pile of heavy-assed rocks crushing my legs…_

_Dean!_ Sam growled low in his throat, and shifted, dislodging my head. _S'not funny!_

_Unclench dude…_ But that worried look in Sam's eyes warned me off saying anything too smart-assed. _I'm ok Sam. Once I'm free I'll be able to heal properly. Just chill kiddo._

Tobius was silent as always, but I could hear Gerald huffing and panting away like an old man, suggesting he was in bear form. But someone else was here.

_Josey?_ I lifted my head and sniffed the air just as the unlikely trio moved into my line of sight. _You shouldn't be out here in your condition!_

I was caught on the nasty end of a searing female glare, and would have scrambled away if not for Sam's weight against me. Oh yeah, and the small rock garden. How could I have forgotten?

_I'm pregnant, not an invalid._ She admonished. I felt certain if Josey had been in human form right then, she'd have been wagging a finger at me.

Whereas Gerald was huge, stocky and wide, Josey was petite and slender. Well, at least compared to her husband, but then I guess a sumo wrestler would've looked downright anorexic next to him.

That started me off chuckling. What the hell would junior look like?

_Oh God! Stop thinking it! No… stop!_

I could feel Sam grinning, his breath hot against my neck as he panted softly.

Josey glared at the both of us this time, but I felt the undercurrent of humour in her tone as she scolded away.

_Let me make it quite clear that any references to Goldilocks, porridge or anything else you two performing dogs come up with, will be swiftly rewarded with another ton of rock._ She growled loudly, and rose up onto her hind legs. _This time on _both_ your heads._

It only made it harder of course when she planted both paws on her hips, and I'm telling you, there just ain't no sight funnier than an indignant bear.

Even Gerald snorted.

Sam's tail thumped lightly against my belly in his own amusement.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_Ok. After three…_

Tobius was back in human form and pressing all his weight against a particularly stubborn boulder. I couldn't see Josey and Gerald, but I could hear them puffing and grunting as they worked to free me.

A slight shift in the rock above me signified progress, but the pain that spiked through my rear legs wasn't encouraging. Shock was really digging its claws in, and I started shivering.

_Just breathe through it, Dean._ Sam curled round me tighter than ever, his soft fur tickling my snout. _We'll soon have you out of here._

I don't remember much after that, apart from the flash of Tobius' concerned face, sweat dripping from his chin, Sam whispering to me in my head when I could no longer respond, and the muffled tumble of rocks and pebbles.

The slow spin into oblivion was more than welcome, and with a soft whine, I gladly let the darkness take me.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Warmth.

It felt good, safe, surrounding and holding me in a cocoon of pain-free comfort.

I knew the moment before opening my eyes that I was back in human form. My brain had run a scan for damage and happily came back with nothing to report. Clearly I'd healed well.

Frankly, it was just a relief to wake up without that god awful weight resting on my legs.

I shifted slightly as the room came into focus, a soft orange glow from the fire place illuminating Sam's soft silky fur and deep glowing eyes. I was lying on a pile of pillows and cushions on the floor, swaddled in layer upon layer of blankets. The kid had been resting with his muzzle on my chest, staring into the dancing flames, but now he sat up, eager and worried all at the same time.

_Dean. How dya feel, dude?_

Sam shuffled up on his belly and haunches, pressing little doggy snuffles against my cheek, then buried his snout in my neck. I couldn't help but frown at the display of affection. Sure, it wasn't that unusual for Sam, but it was the edge of desperation behind it that niggled at me.

_God I was so scared. All my fault. I'm so sorry, Dean. All my fault. Sorrysorrysorry…_

He whined unhappily into my ear.

I had my answer.

"Hey! Kiddo, I'm fine." I reached up and rubbed a hand over the soft fur at the back of his head, scratching lightly at his ears. "It's all ok now. No harm done."

His warm furry body was quivering, and I could feel his guilt and pain.

_It's NOT ok. None of this is ok. First I make you mad, then I nearly get you killed…_

"Sammy…"

…_no wonder you want to get rid of me. I don't blame you for wanting to send me away!_

"What!?" I couldn't believe my ears. The kid had some serious guilt issues.

_You're right. I do owe you. I'll go to college, get out of your life. You'll be safer without me around to screw things up…_

He just babbled on and on, until I'd had enough. 'Bout time this guilt train was cancelled due to bad weather.

"Stop it!" I hissed sharply and sat up, grabbed his furry face with both hands, and pressed my nose to his snout. Blue-green eyes, slightly out of focus, blinked wide open merely inches from mine. Though sorely tempted to laugh at the surprise on his face, I gave him a small, rough shake instead. "Stop saying that. I want you to go for _your _sake. Not mine. I don't know how to persuade you, how to make you believe me."

Sam puffed through his nose, blowing a warm breath against my chin.

"You don't screw things up, Sammy. You make everything better. You make my life worth living." Gently curling an arm round him, and pulling the young wolf to my side, I forced his head down against my chest, stroking his ears as he whimpered softly. "You're the most important thing in my life, kiddo," I whispered, resting my chin on his head. "You're my son, and I love you. Always will."

Sammy seemed a little shell shocked, and I couldn't really blame him. It was more than a little out of character for me. I'd never said it to him when we were growing up, but I guess things were different now. As his father, it was _allowed_.

_Love you too, Dean. _Sam snuggled closer, tail softly thumping the carpet.

We sat there for a while, watching the fire. Sam described in detail how Tobius, Josey and Gerald had finally managed to shift the pile of rock. Apparently, Tobius carried me all the way back to the cabin, the two werebears following on behind, and Sam leading the way.

I snorted a little at the thought.

"Let me guess, you guys were singing 'Hi ho, Hi ho' right?"

Sam grinned, tongue lolling out as he panted softly.

_Hardly. Besides, Gerald really can't sing in bear form._

I grimaced, remembering one drunken night after several hands of poker.

"Dude, he can't sing in _human_ form!"

A small cough from the doorway had me glancing up to find Tobius smiling fondly at us.

"Thought you boys might be hungry by now."

He held out three large steaming bowls, a plate of buttered bread balanced on top, and a delicious meaty smell filled the room. My mouth watered, and Sam let out a guttural growl of anticipation and approval.

"Irish stew. With dumplings," Tobius grinned, and silently crossed the room to kneel beside us. "Courtesy of Josey. She and Gerald left a little while ago. They'll drop by again tomorrow to check on the patient."

Sam slipped out of my grasp, changed and grabbed up a blanket. Shyly covering his nakedness, he gratefully accepted the bowl of stew and leaned back against the couch, spoon at the ready.

"This is great! Josey's a damn genius!" I announced, digging deep into a large dumpling and scooping up a piece of lamb.

"Sure is," Sam agreed with enthusiasm, and took a large bite.

Tobius sat back beside his grandson, looking content and relaxed as he tackled his own food.

At first I thought it was just my paranoia, until I noticed Sam's eyes darting a little nervously between Tobius and me. There was an _atmosphere_, but I couldn't define it.

"So, Sam," began Tobius in a reasonable 'just passing the time' tone of voice. "You've made up your mind about not going to college, I take it."

Sam stopped eating and hung his head miserably, obviously expecting another row.

"Uhuh." His voice was small and shy, like a chastised child.

Tobius appeared to consider that for a moment, and his response came as a surprise.

"Fair enough, young pup." He smiled down at Sam, and gently cupped his chin. "It's your decision." His eyes flickered to me for a brief instant, before staring deep into Sam's wide blue-greens. "It's _always_ your decision."

Point taken.

I grimaced a little in shame and carried on eating. The atmosphere eased into something more comfortable, but all the while I felt the guilt creeping in. Tobius was right. Didn't matter that my intentions were good; by giving Sam a hard time, I was making him miserable, and that was the last thing he needed.

So the decision was made. I wasn't going to bring up the whole college thing again. It was up to Sam now. Any further pushing on my part would only make things worse, and the last thing I wanted was for him to feel unloved. He'd had enough of that from John.

Sam looked up at Tobius gratefully, then turned his sad, apologetic gaze on me.

_Dean…_

_S'ok, Sammy. He's right. I'm sorry I pushed so hard buddy._

I reached out and ruffled his hair playfully.

Though I'd never admit it out loud, that small, selfish part of me that once hoped Puppy Sam would never grow up to become Adult Wolf Sam, was whooping and high fiving silently in my head.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

_**So, evil cliffie over. I had to put in some Dean whumpage, it only seemed right and fair. And besides, I hope you'll agree that the thought of Wolf Sam curled up around Hurt Wolf Dean is just too cute.**_

_**Don't worry fellow Sam girls. There will be plenty more trouble on the way, and you all know me and my obsession with The Limp...**_

_**Cheers for all your wonderful reviews and support.**_

_**Kind regards,**_

_**ST xxx**_


	19. Chapter 19

**Hunter of The Shadows**

**Chapter 19**

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"**I never really thanked you for dropping it." Sam muttered tiredly.**

**The boys are back seated in fronted of the living room fire place, drinking in the warmth and light.**

**Dean considers his answer carefully.**

"**Yeah... well... never really sat right with me, trying to force you into it. I learned quickly that kind of pressure never works with you." He pauses then continues with just as much care as before. "You have any regrets about that dude? Apart from the obvious."**

**Though the boys share a sad, meaningful glance, Sam's holds considerably more heartache.**

**He glances away from Dean and stares into the fire.**

"**No, not really." Sam answers softly. "'Cos I got my family back."**

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_**Here we go again...**_

"Say cheese guys!" Sam stepped back, trying to fit us all in the frame. The flash of the digital camera blinded everyone in the room, wolf and bear alike.

The tiny baby nestled in Josie's arms started squealing in protest, and a proud Gerald, sitting next to the bed, cooed softly, gently rubbing his thumb over a delicate pink cheek. His daughter squinted up at him, soft brown eyes taking in the broad smile on Gerald's face.

Tobius looked almost as exhausted as the werebears, but he was grinning from ear to ear regardless. He'd been up since the early hours when a petrified Gerald had called him, declaring his wife had gone into labour, _and could he please, please, please come help!_

Poor Gerald was often prone to panic until reason caught up with him, though in this case I could honestly say I didn't blame him. I remembered all too well how I'd felt just after turning Sam, his healing injuries causing him no end of pain.

I don't know why I was so surprised that Tobius knew what he was doing. He was calm, competent and so gentle with Josie and her soon-to-be-newborn, that Gerald was happy to just follow his instructions.

Sam and I helped as much as we could, providing clean towels, hot water, keeping everything clean, but the rest was up Momma and Poppa bear, and their personal midwife. The two of us were kindly, but firmly kicked out of the room when Josie's contractions became more painful and closer together. Sammy and I paced up and down, getting more agitated and worried with every blood curdling scream that echoed round the little cabin.

"_AAAGGGGGHHHHHHHYYYYEEEEOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!!"_

Sam winced, and glanced at the closed door when poor Josie began sobbing heavily.

"Hey Dean?" he whispered nervously.

"Yeah!"

It sounded like Josie was taking a long, deep breath, getting ready for another earth shattering scream.

"REALLY glad I ain't a girl dude!"

"_AAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"_

I considered that for a long moment.

"Who says you ain't?"

"_Geralddontyouevertouchmeagainyoubaaastaaaarrrrd!!!!"_

"Ha! You're a real funny guy!" Sam snorted indignantly.

Some twenty hours later – _jeeze! -_ baby girl Janaya-Maria made her way into the world.

I'm not sure how it happened, but somewhere along the way, the werebear family became important to us, slotting in with ease, and burrowing into our hearts. But the new addition to their household solidified the bond between our two families.

Sam was mesmerised by the tiny girl, and couldn't seem to tear his gaze away. His eyes were wide and filled with delight when the child gurgled happily, and blew bubbles from her rose-bud lips.

"Would you like to hold her Sam?" Josie enquired with a small smile, and I tried to stifle my laughter when the boy blushed with embarrassment, already shaking his head. "Oh come on! Janaya-Maria would love a cuddle with her Uncle Sam."

"I… I'm… uh… afraid I might drop her…" but the kid didn't get much of a choice when Gerald lifted the baby from his wife's arms, and placed her in Sam's.

He looked absolutely terrified for a few seconds, until he relaxed, obviously realising the child wasn't going to bite him. In fact, he was a natural, rocking the baby gently and humming softly when she began fussing.

"Guess we found ourselves a baby sitter for Friday nights!" Gerald grinned mischievously, and kissed the top of his wife's head. "We can hit the town babe, candlelit dinner, soft music, maybe some dancing."

Josie rolled her eyes in amusement.

"I'm sure Sam has better things to be doing at his young age, _especially_ on Friday nights."

Sam glanced up at that, and smiled sweetly. "No. I don't mind looking after her when you guys need a break."

"I'll think about it." Josie grinned back. "But right now I can't bear to be apart from her for too long…" she made an anxious grabbing action with her hands, reaching out to her daughter, and Sam chuckled as he handed the baby over to her mother.

"Aw Sammy," I patted his shoulder. "You'll make an excellent mom one day."

He scowled at me for a second, before a sly grin slowly emerged.

"So if I'm _Uncle_ Sam," he reasoned, and I just _knew_ where the little shit was heading with this, "that must make you _Great Uncle_ Dean, huh? How's that feel _old man?!_"

"Shuddup Sam!" I glared back at him.

Amongst the sniggering, Tobius, of course, was the one to take charge.

"I think it's time to let mother and child get some rest," he glanced at Gerald with a raised eyebrow. "You too, my friend. Sleep whilst you can."

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We didn't stay too much longer; just long enough for Josie to recover. The small family needed time to adjust to their new circumstances, without us hanging around twenty-four-seven.

And besides, Tobius had caught wind of a lunar-dependent in Palo Alto, California. This was to be Sammy's first encounter with such a beast, the classic movie-style werewolf that changed on the appearance of the full moon.

As I've mentioned before, these poor people are essentially innocent, and have no recollection of their actions whilst in wolf form. Nevertheless, we had to put them down.

Several wild dog attacks had been reported on Stanford University campus in the last few months, and the pattern followed the lunar cycle. Four students were found ripped to pieces, hearts torn out, and one attack had been so vicious, the victim's head was bitten clean off.

Sam volunteered to pose as a would-be student on a visit to the campus. It gave him the perfect opportunity to question students and professors alike, and I just went along as the protective 'older brother', making sure the campus was safe enough for my 'little brother'.

Tobius, posing as a journalist, continued his own line of investigations, checking out the morgue and talking to the cops.

Wandering around the campus was certainly an experience. You could almost taste the eau de geek in the air, with students pushing passed us, presumably on their way to class, and I almost roared with laughter when I spotted a walking, talking cliché.

Bow tie, neatly clipped beard, twinkling jovial eyes, and brightly coloured waistcoat wrapped round a girth wide enough to shame Santa Clause.

I peered sideways at the guy as he strode on by.

_Yes! I knew it! Tweed jacket? Just _had_ to have elbow patches. Bet he sounds like Brian Blessed; deep booming voice and all._

He was the very image of the kindly, absentminded, loud and flamboyant professor.

_See that Sammy? That's one myth I don't mind seeing come to life!_

But when he didn't answer, I glanced over at him.

His eyes were wide and darting round, taking in every sight and every person. There was a small, eager kind of half-smile on his face, and I could see he was itching to be a part of it all.

Taking a mental step back, it was obvious to me the kid belonged here, if only for a little while.

Sam could thrive in this environment.

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_Reports state the first victim was found in an alley out back of the student bar. _Sam pointed to our left. _Daniel Crogan, straight A Philosophy student._ He shook his head. _What a waste._

_Let's go check it out. _I nodded, and gently pushed my way in front of the kid, deliberately ignoring his eye roll.

Sure, he was all grown up and a more than competent hunter, but that wouldn't stop me employing every trick in the book to keep him safe.

Even now.

The entrance to the alley was dark even in daylight, the red brickwork giving way to dim shapes and shadows, and the occasional scuffling indicated the frantic escape of small furry vermin, as they sensed our presence and panicked.

Yeah, they know a werewolf when they smell us.

Students, however, scurried on by, completely oblivious, chatting amiably, or in some cases, loudly, voices harried and stressed.

"_Dude, can I borrow your notes? I totally fell asleep during that lecture..."_

"_You catch the game last night? Awesome..."_

"_I think Michael totally has the hots for me... you shoulda seen his face when I walked by him..."_

"_Carrie's such a little slut! Did you see her flirt with the professor? She's so trying to improve her grades!"_

"_She'll have to work harder than that! Dude's gayer than a picnic basket..."_

Sam leaned casually against the exterior wall, hands tucked in jean pockets, one knee bent, foot pressed flat to the bricks, listening in on the buzzing conversations.

No one seemed all that worried about the _important _things. Ya know. Like some big hairy wolf running round ripping people's hearts out.

Higher education, huh?

I tilted my face to the sun and squinted, chuckling softly.

For all the world, we just looked like two guys passing the time of day, waiting for the bar to open. But on the inside, we were assessing, tracking, analysing.

_There's a lot of blood, Dean, _Sam glanced around, _this one really went to town._

_Uhuh. _My nostrils flared._ Smell that?_

The kid paused to consider. _Aftershave. _He tilted his head the other way. _Best guess? Old Spice. Should be easier to track._

_Yep,_ I couldn't help grinning with pride.

Sam snuffled a little when he picked up on something else.

_Cigarette smoke. Maybe the victim snuck out for a nicotine fix right before he was killed._

As I once pointed out, different species of werewolves have a unique scent. So do individual werewolves. Just as cell phone companies can track a digital signature, we can use a werewolf's scent in the same way. But lunar dependents are essentially just ordinary humans with some bad mojo on the side, an old demon wolf curse, and have no knowledge of their extra-curricular activities. The scent of a lunar dependent is still basically human, but earthy, and tinged with sulphur.

_I'll take point. Stay close._

Once the flock of students moved on, I slid sideways into the shadows.

Sam nodded, took one final glance around, then followed suit.

Kegs, empty bottles and tattered yellow crime scene tape littered the alley, and the smell of stale beer and damp barely hid the pungent scent of blood. The cops had done a good job cleaning up the murder scene, but there's little you can hide from a werewolf.

It just felt weird, the gloom clinging to us like a second skin, the silence heavy and oppressive, separating us from the world outside the alley.

Sam crouched down, eyes narrowed and glowing eerily in the darkness. One hand ghosted over a tiny dark stain on the bar room wall, the other rested on his knee for balance.

_Guess the cops missed it. But this ain't the victims blood. _Sam's nostrils flared. _It's the werewolf's._

_Looks like the kid put up a fight,_ I replied, feeling a flutter of sadness.

A brilliant mind, full of potential, lost forever.

Sam was right.

It _was_ a waste, a crying shame in fact. Pushing away raw emotion in favour of the hunt, my eyes swept the dark alley, searching for something, _anything_ out of the ordinary.

A dull gleam from a nearby drain caught my attention, and, as I drew closer, I realised what it was.

_Hey, Sammy. Come look at this._

Sam moved with silent grace to stand beside me, and peered down.

"Huh. Looks like a gold cufflink." His voice echoed strangely in the closeness of the alley. Sam bent down, wrenched off the grate, and pulled the piece of metal free of muck and grime, then held it to his nose for a long moment, eyes closed in concentration

This was something he excelled at, and often put me to shame.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, intently scanning the darkness ahead, and a low, involuntary shiver raced down my spine, when he whispered.

"There was someone else here."

One advantage we have over vamps, is our ability to use our combined senses to create a kind of _reconstruction,_ or recording of events, seeing what was _once _there, provided they took place fairly recently. Piece by piece, smell by smell, it all starts to fit together like a badly made jigsaw puzzle. It's not perfect, and I certainly wouldn't describe the result as clear footage. It's mostly blurry shapes and shadows, but it gives a basic idea.

_The aftershave wasn't from the werewolf or the victim._ Sam wrinkled his nose and stared straight ahead.

I followed his gaze and nodded in agreement.

It was fuzzy, but definitely there.

A dark shape, partially in shadow, had stood by and watched the carnage. Around six feet tall, leaning against the wall by a water pipe.

Smoking a cigarette.

We knew what we were dealing with all right.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_Man, this is getting gruesome, Dean._ Sam dug his hands deep into his jean pockets as we left the campus storeroom. _That was the fourth crime scene and I don't feel any easier about this._

He was right.

I didn't either. We had only one more chance. Tonight was the last night of full moon, then we'd be screwed for another month.

_Hey kiddo. It's not all bad ya know? _I bumped my shoulder with his, trying to bring out a smile, but the kid was worried as hell. And I couldn't blame him.

Once we knew what we were looking for, it wasn't hard to spot the similarities between the murder scenes.

The scent of Old Spice, cigarette smoke, and the strange observer, hidden nearby.

So who was our tall, mysterious, cigarette smoking, cufflink wearing, shadow? And talk about voyeuristic. It had to be some kind of sicko that took pleasure in watching defenceless kids ripped to pieces by a monster.

But the clue was in the aftershave, the smoke and the cufflink.

All those scents, when combined, made for an effective shield, to hide the guy's true scent. But it was the cufflink that really gave the game away. As Sammy discovered, the jewellery held nothing except its' own intrinsic metallic smell.

So, in fact, Old Spice and smoke covered the _lack _of a scent.

And that clinched it.

We were dealing with a vampire.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

By the time we gleaned all we could from student gossip and rumours, the day was almost over.

And that small selfish part of me?

Well.

Let's just say I got the impression it was sulking. Sam's body language told me he was slowly changing his mind about college, but I didn't think he even knew it.

Or maybe I was wrong.

The conversation began with Sam huffing out a breath the minute the motel room door swung shut, followed by:

"Dude, I need to talk to you."

I turned to face him, noting the sorrow on his face, and the tense way he held himself.

"Ok."

Not wanting to get my hopes up, I kept my face neutral and sat down on one of the beds. "What's up, buddy?"

His fingers fiddled nervously with the zipper on his hoodie, and he bit his bottom lip red raw, before slowly lowering himself to the other bed.

"Uh... what did you think of the place?" Sam blushed with embarrassment, then stuttered onwards. "I-I mean, uh, the campus..."

As he stared at me helplessly, I realised he was waiting for me to let him off the hook. But I couldn't oblige him. This time, Sam _needed_ to tell _me_ what he wanted.

"Yeah, cool place." I nodded, pretending complete ignorance, and I could feel his frustration mounting. "For Geeksville, that is." I added with a wry grin that made Sam roll his eyes. But at least the atmosphere had brightened a little.

More lip biting.

Sam ducked his head.

"C'mon kid," I told him softly. "Out with it."

"I..." He gulped a little, then raised worried eyes to meet mine. "I w-was wondering wh-what you thought of me coming here to study law?"

Colour me stupid, but I really didn't understand what he was so afraid of. Perhaps he thought I might have changed my mind. Fact was, the idea of being apart from Sam, for any length of time, scared the living crap out of me, and yeah, I'd miss him like hell.

But this was Sam's future.

The future he once so desperately wanted, and, if the look on his face when we explored Stanford was anything to go by, he still did. I understood he was torn, but I couldn't _not_ let him go.

Loved him too damn much for that.

So I did the only thing I could.

Leaning forward, and brushing soft strands of hair out of the kid's eyes, I grinned.

"I think you're gonna look great in one of those tweed jackets geekboy."

Sam chuckled and shook his head, looking relieved.

"Tweed? Really don't think so Dean."

"Why not? Uh c'mon Sammy." I waggled my eyebrows and nodded at the image conjured up in my head. "It's a great disguise. Sam Winchester, Law Student Extraordinaire by day. Werewolf Hero by night. Oh man! Just think of all those chicks, just _itching_ to scratch behind your ears after you save 'em from the big _nasties_ tonight!"

Sam was giving me a pitying look, one that was becoming all too common these days.

"Even if they accept me, I won't be starting 'til the next intake, Dean," Sam's mouth twitched in amusement. "So the chances are, anyone I save tonight would've advanced a year, or graduated by then. And in any case, we work as a team, right?"

I punched his arm lightly.

'Course. But I'll let you take all the credit for this one." Another waggle of the eyebrows. "My boy's gotta get that cherry popped someday, might as well be here!"

My grin widened when he blushed furiously.

"Dean! Really not comfortable talking about... _that!_"

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_So, _Tobius leaned against the wall by his bed, one ear listening at the door just in case. _We're all agreed then? Vampire?_

Or, more to the point, a vampire-werewolf tag team.

Sam shook his head, looking more than a little confused. _You're saying that a vampire somehow tamed a lunar dependent, just to use it as a hunting dog?_

_It's been known. _Tobius answered, ominously.

We were back in the motel room, not far from the campus gates. The very moment the motel room door slammed shut behind Sire, the family pow wow began, with Tobius accounting for his day at the morgue and conversations with the local police. He pretty much confirmed everything we'd figured out, and that wasn't a comforting thought.

_The victims injuries displayed the usual werewolf kill tactic_, Sire explained, then raised an eyebrow for effect. _Except for one thing._

He held out the palm of his hand, and dropped something onto Sam's bed.

_That was left behind in the third victim's body._ Tobius watched as his grandson picked up the vampire tooth, and held it up. _Seems our friend was sloppy more than once this cycle._

He nodded towards the cufflink, yellow gold winking at us in the dim light cast from the nightstand.

_I'm assuming this vamp employed some kind of powerful, temporary charm to gain control during full moon._ Sam pondered.

And it made a kind of sense.

The werewolf made the kill, and the vampire reaped the benefits without getting caught by human hunters. It also kept him off Lenore's radar; the passive nests would never know, their nostrils over powered by the scent of werewolf.

That raised a worrying point.

Why was he getting sloppy?

It seemed almost deliberate; surely losing a cufflink at the scene of a crime would cause a panic. Why wouldn't he go back and retrieve it?

Unless it was left for a reason.

An invitation, perhaps.

This had Gordon Walker stamped all over it.

I shook my head at that. It just didn't _feel _right.

For a start, Gordon wasn't a smoker, and he didn't strike me as the type to start just because he was immortal, even to cover his tracks. And in any case, if he'd escaped his prison down in Florida, Lenore would have been in contact by now to warn us.

This guy _wanted _to get caught.

I realised Tobius and Sam were watching me closely.

_I got nothing guys._ I shrugged, and grinned. _Maybe that's all it is; a sloppy vamp, who's gotten too lazy to hunt for his own food._

Sam and Tobius both snorted, and I just felt relieved to lighten things up. It was getting way too intense for my liking.

This whole hunt was feeling too far off base somehow, and I got the distinct impression even Tobius was finding this all a little spooky.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

**_(The idea of werewolves being able to 'reconstruct' events using their combined senses was loosely borrowed from Terry Pratchett's Discworld. Anyone want to hazzard a guess which book?)_**

_**So a new hunt, a new challenge... and the start of trouble for Sam.**_

_**Let the creepies commence!**_

_**Cheers guys.**_

_**Kind regards,**_

_**ST xxx**_


	20. Chapter 20

**Hunter of The Shadows**

**Chapter 20**

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**Dean's staring into the camera, and the shadows under his eyes tell the audience that this part of his story is about as dark as it can get. And it seems even the curtains, fluttering in a sudden soft breeze, sense a grim foreshadowing...**

"**Dude!" Sam calls from the bathroom. "We got any more toilet paper?" **

**Dean sighs in mild frustration.**

"**He always has to spoil the mood," he mutters, then calls out "Cupboard under the sink!"**

**A scuffling, then a small noise of triumph as Sam discovers his prize.**

**Sam is heard taking a breath of satisfaction, and slams the bathroom door shut.**

**Dean shakes his head, and grins tiredly into the camera.**

"**Like father like son, huh? Sure wish I'd remembered that sooner..."**

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_**Its actions such as this... our martyrdom that follows, our justification, arrogance, and the lies we tell ourselves... that truly turn us into monsters.**_

_**- Johanna Aldridge. The Channel Islands. Liberation day 2009.**_

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Couldn't tell ya why of course, but I was tempted to order Sam off the hunt and stay safe in the motel room. It wasn't that I didn't have faith in the kid, just the opposite. But I had a bad feeling some serious shit was going down tonight.

"Sam…"

"Don't say it," he countered with a grimace. "You need me on this, Dean."

He fixed me with a determined stare, and something told me I wasn't going to win this.

"He's right," Tobius interjected and I glared at him. It wasn't often Sire interfered, but this was one time I wished he hadn't. He softened his approach when he caught my ferocious gaze. "Sam can handle it. He's easily as good as us, and he's proved himself on many occasions."

That much was true, but I still wasn't happy. Turning to Sam, I matched his stare.

"We don't split up. _At any time_. You hearing me? You stick with me or Tobius, and no wandering off, no matter what happens." I crossed my arms, jaw clenched. "I mean it."

Sam studied me for a minute or two before nodding slowly.

"It's a deal." He turned to the bed, reaching for his machete, but then glanced back at me with a curious expression on his face. "What's got you so spooked, dude?"

There was no derision in his voice, just concern.

Shifting nervously, I realised I had no answer to that. At least not one I could put into words.

"I…" Frowning, I sighed heavily. "I just got a bad feeling 'bout this, ok? Please, just be extra careful tonight. Stay close by. Promise me?"

Another long moment passed, with Sam watching me closely, before he answered softly.

"Ok." He nodded again. "It's ok, Dean. I promise."

I couldn't help the relief that followed, but still that feeling of deep dread plagued me.

We had no idea where the werewolf would strike next, but given that it was the last night of the full moon, it was time to haul ass. We had the entire campus to cover, but with so many students still up late, either studying, or spending time at the bar, we couldn't risk wolf form. And in any case, carrying machetes round our necks just wasn't viable.

Try _painful._

Our clothes were doused in the evil smelling herb to cover our scent, some complicated Latin name I still couldn't pronounce, and didn't much give a shit about anyhow.

The only thing that mattered was the vamp couldn't smell us coming.

We were each packing wrapped silver blades, and .45s loaded with silver.

If the hunt was successful, the vamp would lose its head, and the werewolf would lose its heart.

It was potluck, just advancing stealthily about the campus, testing the air for the lunar dependent, the smell of Old Spice and cigarette smoke.

We rechecked the alley by the bar, but the kaleidoscope of scents had faded considerably since our earlier visit. As the hours tripped passed, I grew impatient, wondering if maybe this whole thing was a wild goose chase. Maybe the vamp had given up and gone home.

Doubtful.

And it was a damn good job impatience hadn't turned to complacency.

Hearing a faint noise to my left, I instinctively ducked, and the sound of something impacting with the wall just above my head turned my blood cold. Chips of brick and cement rained down, and the sharp twang of silver reached my nose. Scrambling backwards, and tucking myself into the relative safety of a recess in the wall, I frantically sought out my main concern.

_Sammy, get down!_

At the same time I was being targeted, Tobius grunted loudly as something barrelled into him from behind, knocking him flat on his belly.

It was the lunar dependent, and it immediately set about mindlessly tearing Tobius to pieces. Sire grit his teeth and scrabbled for his .45, swinging it round over his shoulder, and fired.

It made a hit, but only a scratch. The poisonous silver was enough to make it yelp and back off however, and Tobius rolled free, taking aim once more.

Another shot from over head, and this time way too close to Sam. The kid ducked, rolled, and came up again behind the cover of a dumpster.

_Dean! You ok?_

_I'm fine kiddo. You?_

_Never better._

I sensed the shaky eye roll that accompanied the snarky remark, and grinned.

Tobius let out a loud roar when the werewolf leapt gracefully out of his line of sight, and pounced. Cloth ripped and seams tore, stitching coming undone, as Sire changed mid attack, taking his opponent by surprise.

They both went down, snapping, growling and clawing at each other. There was nothing we could do to help him, pinned down as we were by our own hidden, silver-wielding enemy.

_Dean? I think I know where he is! See that dorm window on the first floor of the building opposite us?_

I narrowed my gaze, and sure enough, there he was.

Our self-appointed personal assassin was standing far back from the window, standard procedure to avoid being illuminated by the streetlights. But the bastard must have underestimated our eyesight, 'cos once you knew where he was, he stood out like a nun in the Playboy mansion.

_Ok. Good job, Sam… Sammy?_

The little shit broke cover and ran across the street, stopping just under the window, and pressing his back to the building.

To say my heart was in my mouth didn't do it justice.

To say I was so gonna beat the living crap outta him when this was over…

But then he was off again, sliding along the wall, and heading for the fire escape.

_Nonono… don't you fucking dare… Sam! Get your ass back here!_

_Just chill dude. You keep his attention, distract him, and I'll sneak up and cut his head off._

I reeled in shock and anger.

Though I saw the logic in it, the little bastard was breaking his promise. It was an unwanted distraction, however, and way too late for Sam to turn back. We needed to get the job done, once and for all.

I hardened my heart and did as he asked, but deep down, I was seething with fury.

Dodging in and out of streetlights, silver bullets zipping over head, I made slow progress to the dorm, hopefully giving Sam enough time to get in position.

A loud crash and a shout had me breaking into a run, and I bounded up the fire escape, screaming for Sam in my head.

_D'n…_

He was hurt.

Badly, by the sound of things, and I could practically taste his blood in the air, thick, pulsing and hot.

_Sam, I'll be right there. Just hold on..._

Heart in my throat?

Nah.

Now it was sinking like a lead weight.

A stepladder, tins of paint, and a strong whiff of solvents explained why no students were running around, screaming in terror.

The place was closed up for refurbishment.

Sam had obviously broken the lock on the fire escape, because the door was still swinging gently on its hinges. I headed into the hallway, following the scent of Sam's blood, but the biggest breadcrumb was the sound of a familiar voice.

The voice of someone I once considered a friend.

I slowed and crept close to the doorframe, heart filled with dread.

_Sammy? You ok?_

_Uhuh…_

I concentrated on listening, waiting for the right moment. Sneaking a quick peek only made my heart pound faster with fear.

The vamp's back was to me, and Sam was on his knees, hands gripping something protruding from his stomach.

Something sharp and, above all, silver.

A thin length of wire ran from a hook fixed at the front, and when the vampire tugged on it viciously, the kid gasped and choked on his own blood.

"…you hearing me, Sammy?"

That voice was burning me, but it was the look of total heartbreak and betrayal on Sam's face that nearly finished me off.

I couldn't see the guy's face, but I knew who it was all right.

Question was, how long had he been a vampire?

And who turned him?

I was about to find out.

"I ran into Gordon Walker…"

Now why wasn't I surprised to hear that?

"… didn't wanna believe him at first. He told me what you guys did… to your own _father_. You murdering _bastards!_"

"_C-Caleb… p-please… you don't understand…!"_ Sam was trying to stall him and it was working.

"Oh I understand all right, kid."

I'd never heard Caleb sound so heartless, especially towards Sammy.

Gone was the snarky, lovable family friend who once taught me how to construct a Molotov cocktail, and showed a six year old Sammy how to tie a reef knot.

In his place was a cold, ruthless murderer.

"A good man lost his life just to save your sorry, _wolf_ asses. Then Gordon turned me," Caleb was shaking with anger, "against my _will!_ All because of you! To hunt you down, and make you pay!"

His eyes gleamed with mad fury.

"But know this."

Oh yeah, he was so far over the cuckoo's nest it wasn't even funny.

"I'd have gladly hunted you anyhow. I don't need no vampire senses to avenge John's death. But I _needed_ to feed. Figured I may as well make use of the lunar out there."

So Gordon had turned him to help with the hunt?

Huh. A little extreme.

But then, I guess that's Gordon's MO. Every one of our encounters with that dude so far had been extreme, so why would this be any different?

Though it hurt me to do it, I held off, waiting for any more information that might prove useful. Anything that might tip us off should other hunters come looking for us.

_Sorry Sammy…_

_S'ok._

He understood, God love him.

_Attaboy!_

"_J-John…_" Sam rasped out, and blinked a few times, "_he… h-hurt me… tr-tried to k-kill Dean…_"

"Because you lied to him!" Caleb suddenly roared, and yanked on the wire again.

Sam grunted in pain and barely managed to stay on his knees.

"Now, call to them! I know you guys can share thoughts. Gordon told me all about werewolf lore. So go ahead, call your daddy and grandpa so they can watch me _tear you in two!_"

Sam was fighting the change, and losing. His ears began sliding up, teeth lengthening, eyes glowing fiercely as he fought the effects of the silver embedded in his gut. Tears leaked down his face when Caleb tugged again, and Sam let out a small sob of pain.

I'd heard enough.

Sam was getting sick and losing too much blood.

He wouldn't last much longer.

"I'm sorry, Caleb," I whispered, huskily.

I stepped forward, machete already on the side-swing as he whirled round.

The head left its body, and landed with a sickening _squelch_ on the carpet.

The torso stayed where it was for a few long seconds, blood spurting outwards, and, looking like something out of the opening sequence to Ghostship, toppled forward.

I couldn't help but stare, mesmerised by the sheer sadness that suddenly overwhelmed.

But I had more worrying issues, and I snapped back to reality.

Sam's head was bowed in defeat and pain, hands still clutching his stomach.

Short, shallow gasps for air filled the room as Sam desperately tried to hold on to his human form. Changing right then would have been excruciating, and the kid was in enough pain as it was.

Making my way over to Sam, I caught sight of the harpoon gun lying on the floor beside Caleb's body. It looked specially adapted; something our old friend had been good at. I cast one final, sad glance at the guy, then put him out of my mind.

It was kill or be killed, and I didn't think twice about it when Sammy needed saving.

_Dean... m'Sorry._ Sam sounded worrying weak in my head. And something told me his apology was for Caleb. Like the stupid kid felt it was all _his_ fault.

_Ssshhh. Just take it easy. _

I was still angry with him, but it was tempered with admiration.

The kid had called for me straight away, and stalled the vamp as best he could. Caleb hadn't expected me to turn up so soon, giving me the edge of surprise.

_Let me see… Sammy, come on. Let me take a look._

Sam moaned in pain when I pulled his hands away to reveal the wound. There was a shocking amount of blood, pumping out relentlessly, and the kid was growing paler by the second.

I actually felt proud of the way I held in a gasp, and kept my thoughts calm for Sammy's sake.

But I wanted to scream blue murder.

It wasn't just a harpoon.

It was barbed, like a retractable grappling hook. Once it caught in Sam's stomach, it snapped open, making it damn nigh on impossible to pull free without tearing the kid's insides to shreds.

Sam swayed suddenly, eyelids drooping.

"Hey!" I spoke aloud, sharpening my tone and tightening my arms around him. "Stay awake! Ya hear me? Don't go to sleep!"

His head dropped heavily to my shoulder. I held him up against me, one hand cupping the back of his head to hold him steady, the other wrapped round his back.

_Tr-trying…_

_I know you are. You're doing good, Sammy. Just hold on now._

I couldn't believe this was happening again.

Sam, despite now being an experienced werewolf, had still been used as bait and gotten badly hurt. Caleb had effectively carried out what Gordon planned to do in the graveyard all those months ago, and damn near succeeded.

This had to be the most complicated plan I'd come across to date, and I suspected that was down to Caleb. That was the way his mind worked, and it made for a cunning and devious hunter.

But Gordon still lay at its foundation. Using another werewolf to lure us in was fast becoming his trademark.

"Dean?" A deep, tired voice spoke up from the doorway.

Tobius looked wiped out, covered in his own blood and breathing heavily. But the moment his eyes lit on Sam, he pulled himself together and swept into action.

Dropping down beside us, he pulled Sam's head away from my shoulder.

"Sam? Come on, boy, open your eyes," he whispered gently.

Sam complied, gazing painfully up at his grandfather, mouth falling open as though it was just too much effort to keep it shut. I could feel his body rippling with the change, shuddering as he gradually gave up fighting it.

Tobius pulled a small plastic zip bag from what was left of his mangled jeans.

"Listen to me, Sam. I want you to breathe nice and slow." He produced a small black pill from the bag and placed it on Sam's tongue. "Now try to swallow. That's it… good boy."

Tobius gently forced Sam's mouth closed, then stroked his throat, helping him get it down.

As usual, Sire sensed my questions.

"Concentrated wolf's bane," he explained softly. "Contrary to popular belief, it doesn't kill us. Just halts the change. It's a last resort, but he needs it right now."

And it worked immediately, Sam's body settling back down into human form, but unfortunately didn't stop the bleeding.

It suddenly struck me, once again.

The sheer responsibility of being a parent.

I was starting to panic.

"Help me get him up." Tobius seemed to get it, and gently as possible under the circumstances, we pulled the kid to his feet.

Sam moaned softly, sagged in our grip, and promptly passed out, body falling limp between us.

"C'mon Sam, don't do this." I cupped his chin, drawing his head back onto my shoulder, just as his breathing stuttered. More blood dripped from his mouth, staining my shirt and Sam began choking again.

Tobius glanced anxiously at his face.

"Motel room!" he barked out. "Now!"

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Authors notes:**_

_**See? I promised more Limp Sam, and I always deliver. So let's see those reviews, let me know just what you think of Sammy in Peril.**_

_**(rubs hands with glee).**_

_**There will be more limp Sam coming up, as Tobius and Dean fight to save his life, along with some fatherly love, and Dean... well. Let's just say he has a lot to think about where Sam's safety is concerned.**_

_**Cheers guys. Special thanks to Phx, Sendintheclowns, and Jen Burch for all their help and advice.**_

_**Kind regards,**_

_**ST xxx**_


	21. Chapter 21

**Hunter of The Shadows**

**Chapter 21**

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**Something black rubs the lens, snuffles a little, then draws away to reveal a huge muzzle, tongue lolling down in a playful grin, and leaving a smear of drool in its wake.**

**A low chuckle is heard from the main entrance to the cabin, then Dean appears. He sets down an armful of logs, pulls off his jacket, then strides across the room, and begins polishing the lens with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.**

"**Mind not getting your snout mess over the camera, dude?"**

**The young wolf glances up at his **_**fatherbrother**_**, silky dark red fur gleaming by the light of the fire, shifting his weight from paw to paw, as though eager and nervous all at once.**

"**C'mere Sammy."**

**In spite of the apparent levity, the atmosphere is fairly sombre, but lifts slightly when Dean drops into a crouch and wraps an arm around Sam, gently stroking his ears and talking quietly.**

"**I know you wanna go hunt, but let's just wait a while longer ok? Until you're a little stronger. S'only been a few days since I removed that last fragment of silver, and I **_**know**_** your hip's still sore as hell. Getting shot'll do thatchya know!" Dean chuckles again when Sam whines softly, leans in and slobbers over his chin. "Hey! Cut that out wouldya?"**

**Sam suddenly lets out a huge, doggy-like sneeze... all over Dean's face. The pup is clearly laughing whilst Dean's glaring at him, one eye closed, and wolf snot dribbling down his nose.**

"**Well, that's just charming," Dean wipes off his face with the other sleeve, glances at the camera and grimaces in disgust. "Ya see what I have to put up with? Abuse! You think this is bad..." he leans towards the camera, conspiratorially. "Ya know, he farts too? A **_**lot!... ow!**_**"**

**Sam wolf-grins smugly, watching as Dean rubs his own ear.**

"**You finished, hound?"**

**Dipping his head, and planting a paw across his muzzle, Sam pretends shame, though his eyes gleam with sweet mischief. **

**Dean shakes his head in mock exasperation.**

"**Now, let's not leave our audience hanging, huh? Nobody likes evil cliff hangers." Dean studies Sam for a moment, as though listening to something the camera can't pick up. "You don't remember much about that time huh? You were too badly hurt, but I was so godamned scared..."**

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Sam shivered harshly on the bed, shirt cut away, revealing the damage in all its horror. Perspiration rolled off his body, mixed with the blood, and drenched the sheets. By the time this was all over, the bed was going to look like a Rorschach inkblot.

But in red.

Tobius and I had scrubbed clean and gloved up, ready for possibly the worst field surgery we'd ever had to perform.

The grappling hook glinted evilly in the overhead light, its prongs deeply tangled in Sam's gut. It was ingenious, designed to cause maximum damage and horrendous pain, and only a sicko like Gordon could have come up with it.

Or so I thought.

"They used these during the English civil war," Tobius announced quietly as he examined the contraption. "For torture. Witches weren't the only ones that suffered at the hands of the Witch Finder General. Matthew Hopkins knew about werewolves, but he was too smart to let onto the rest of the world. He was already walking a fine line with the witch trials. So he had his fun… _in secret. _The victim suffered greatly, before dying slowly and in horrible pain."

_Just like the collar and manacles Gordon used on my boy._

Tobius nodded, sadly.

"Yes. Cruel, but effective."

I got the feeling he was holding back.

Like he had personal experience or something.

But I had little to say to that, just swallowed down my fear and got on with it for Sam's sake.

Sam already had Tobius' wonderful chelating agent flowing through his veins, mopping up any silver in its path. And the wolf's bane continued to do its job, protecting the kid from undergoing an agonising change.

He panted heavily into the oxygen mask, and I prayed the drugs would kick in soon. Sam was like a living, breathing pharmacy, and it would take him months to get his metabolism back on track, but it was better than seeing him in pain.

"Ok. Here we go," Tobius muttered.

He used a carefully sterilised scalpel to slice away at the skin around the hook. Blood welled up straight away, and I dabbed at it with a sterile swab.

Pulling the skin away and cutting it free, Sire took a deep breath, and began to tug at the metal.

Sam flinched, his muffled sobs breaking my heart all over again.

_Easy kiddo. Try and stay still, ok?_

Sam was too far gone to understand, eyes scrunched shut, eyebrows tightly drawn, and mouth twisted in a grimace.

There was little else I could do.

_Please be ok.... beokbeokbeok..._

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It took hours to remove the hook.

Hours of worry, fear and frustration. Sam fully lost consciousness well into the second hour, but whether that was down to the gaseous pain meds, blood loss, or to sheer exhaustion, I couldn't tell. Probably all three.

I bathed his face, neck and chest in cool water, whilst Tobius struggled with the surgery. And believe me, it _was_ a struggle. Perhaps he could have just pulled the damn thing out, tearing Sam's intestines like beef in a food blender.

But Tobius chose the harder option. Carefully sliding each prong free and cutting away the damage. The benefit would mean a shortened recovery time for Sam.

But the downside was the prolonged presence of silver in Sam's body.

Fortunately, Caleb's gadgetry didn't involve slow poisoning. There would be no release of liquid silver into Sam's blood, and no danger of blindness or paralysis, provided the hook was removed soon enough.

So, Tobius chose surgery as the lesser of the two evils, figuring he could remove it before time ran out. Sam would still require plenty of rest, and it was likely the kid would be bedridden for a couple of days at least, a week at most. But that had to be better than the alternative. Merely ripping it free could result in several weeks, even months, of recovery, not to mention the unbelievable pain the kid would suffer.

"Dean, can you move that lamp over? That's it. Great." Tobius once again picked up the scalpel, and began slowly making another incision. His eyes flickered up to Sam's face, studying the kid worriedly through the plastic mask. But apart from a small whimper from time to time, the boy didn't stir.

"Ok. We're done." Tobius eventually grabbed a sterile swab and began the clean up. "Once we have him patched up, I'll give him some more of the chelating agent, just in case." He eyed the gage on the oxygen tank. "He's going to need more pain meds in an hour or two."

But I knew we carried a small spare under the passenger seat of the Impala.

Sire sank back into an easy chair and sighed tiredly.

"Well, it's certainly been an interesting evening," he remarked, dryly.

"You can say that again," I ground out, still running a washcloth over Sam's neck. "Can't believe he broke his promise." Tears threatened but I refused to let them fall. "I _told_ him to stick by me, and the little shit just took off!"

"He's young and impetuous, Dean." Tobius leaned forward, resting elbows on knees. "Just like you."

"He's a reckless idiot!" I fumed in reply. "I was never this irresponsible!"

"Oh really?" Father seemed to be fighting a grin. "Perhaps you've forgotten how you tracked a werewolf for months, only to confront him in a dark alley with little or no training. How you intended to kill said werewolf for ruining your life, but instead were easily over-powered..." his eyes glowed with wry amusement. "Ringing any bells at all?"

"What? That's different!" I spluttered indignantly.

"Is it?" Tobius grew serious. "Because you were alone in the world, that made it ok to embark on a suicide mission? I don't think so, Dean. One thing you're forgetting here. Sam hasn't had the luxury of your experience. He doesn't have a werewolf child of his own to care for and raise. It's a responsibility and honour that has come to you by sheer fortune, with the added bonus that the child was once your brother. The closest Sam has come to it, is Josie and Gerald's little girl. And that just isn't the same thing at all."

He leaned back again and finished with "Try to forgive him, Dean. He was testing the waters, finding out how good he really is," Sire shrugged. "He simply got carried away."

I swallowed hard as I stroked the damps curls away from my son's cheek. Faint tremors ran down my spine and gory images flashed across my mind.

Sam's blood, his cries of pain, and the look on his face when Caleb tugged on the hook. Poor kid was devastated, and I wasn't far behind him on that score.

"I've already forgiven him." I glanced up at Sire with a small smile. "But I'm still kicking his ass for this!"

Tobius grinned back at me.

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

My neck ached.

So did my back.

And it was entirely my own fault. Refusing to sleep, I stayed up watching over Sam, whispering to him when he fretted, checking his temperature and bathing him from time to time. Tobius was out taking care of business and cleaning up last night's mess.

I sure didn't envy him that task.

And so I woke up, slumped back in my chair, a few rays of sunlight blinding me when they cut through a gap in the curtains. Blinking and yawning, I sat up to find Sam watching me, warily.

"Hi. Good to see you awake at last." I raised an eyebrow. "How ya feeling?"

"Ok, I guess. Sore, but ok." Sam replied hesitantly, his voice a little croaky.

He looked a lot better, though tired and pale, with dark bruises under his eyes. I could feel his apprehension, eyes darkened with worry and pain. Any remaining anger drained away from me, and I moved to sit on the edge of his bed, both my hands reaching out to enfold his in a tight, desperate grip.

"Don't you ever..." I spoke softly, but made sure he could hear the fear in my voice, "_ever_, do that again. You scared the _shit_ outta me, kid. I know you wanna prove yaself, I understand, believe me I do. But it wasn't worth it, Sammy. It just wasn't worth the risk of losing you."

Sam stared at me, nodding but not saying a word.

"You _ever_ run into a fight like that again, without backup," I took a deep, shaky breath. "And I swear to God I _will_ put you on a leash."

The kid obviously caught the glint in my eye because he started fighting a grin.

I smiled back, proudly.

Yeah, he'd disobeyed, broken a promise, and nearly got himself killed. But he'd pooled his training and experience, and shown a keen intelligence in the investigation. Not to mention one heavy set of balls in the field.

"Dean... Caleb..." Sam frowned, obviously embarking on a guilt trip.

"Don't do that," I whispered, squeezing his hands gently. "This was down to Gordon. Caleb just got sucked in."

Weren't Sam's fault that Caleb turned out to be the enemy. Guess it shocked the kid into faltering, making a damn near fatal mistake. Can't honestly say it wouldn't have played out any differently if I'd been in Sam's shoes.

"Want some cocoa, Sam?" I grinned suddenly, and held out a bag of mini-marshmallows.

His own smile grew, and a weight to seemed to lift off the both of us.

"Sure." Sam fidgeted with the blanket, shyly. "Any chance of some food? I'm pretty hungry."

And I didn't doubt he was. Sam's injuries had been pretty horrific, and the total body energy expenditure required to heal must have been sky high. The kid needed food for the healing to continue without hindrance, so the motel room's small kitchenette had been prepared whilst Sam slept.

"Coming right up!" I slapped his knee gently through the bed covers, then headed over to the cooler.

Tobius had us both hooked on his own version of the traditional English breakfast. Bacon, eggs (poached and scrambled), fried tomatoes and mushrooms, black pudding, baked beans, sausage, minted lamb cutlets, beef steaks, and, because Sammy needed all the fuel he could get, I decided to add a helping of hash browns.

When I popped my head up from the cooler to ask him which kind of sausage he wanted, I was greeted with a sight that spiked my temper, and I slammed the door, striding across the room, scowling deeply.

"What the hell do ya think you're doing?" I hissed, grasping Sam's arms, keeping him from falling flat on his face.

Sam sat on the edge of the bed, covers thrown back, head bowed and hands clutching at his wounded stomach. He was breathing hard from the effort of movement and, no doubt, the pain.

"I-I ju... just n-needed... the b-bathroom," he stuttered out in between gasps, shaking his head a little as if dizzy.

"Shoulda said something, dumbass," I muttered in half frustration, half worry, and gently pulled him to his feet. I held him still by his arms when he swayed, and the two of us just stood there for a few minutes, until he nodded tiredly. "Ok then. Let's take it slow, huh? Sure hope your bladder gave you plenty of notice, Sammy."

Sam huffed out a laugh.

"Yeah. It's been on standby for a while now, dude."

Grinning, I slipped an arm round his waist, pulling him into my side.

"Just lean on me, ok? Let me do all the work here." As we took a few slow steps forward, I couldn't help chuckling. "You don't need me to hold it for you, right? 'Cos, ya know, _dude!_"

Sam chortled, a little breathless.

"Nah. Think I can manage." He stopped moving for a moment, breathing hard, then stepped forward again. "Wouldn't wanna make ya jealous."

I snorted with derision.

"No chance of that, Sammydawg." And that earned me the famous Sam Winchester baleful glare.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"How's the patient?" Tobius called out the moment he crossed the threshold and shut the door behind him. He shook rain water out of his hair and grinned. "Being _patient_ I hope?"

"He's _being_ a pain in the _ass!_" I answered, pretending a grumpiness I didn't really feel. "Sam, sit down!"

"I'm just trying to help!" Sam groused, then stifled a yawn.

"And you'd help a damn site better if you just got out from under my feet!" I snapped back.

I was standing at the sink, washing the pans, and Sam was shuffling slowly across the kitchen floor, carrying our empty breakfast plates. I knew what he was planning, as he glanced determinedly at the dish cloth. Yanking it out of reach, and slinging on the kitchen work top, I huffed and stared him down.

But those damn puppy dog eyes glistened with moisture, and the kid blinked, staring back at me mournfully.

"Sammy," I softened my stance when I realised this wasn't a ploy; he was genuinely upset. Probably still feeling guilty. "You can help out when you're feeling a little better, but for now, just sit down and relax. Ok? For my peace of mind?"

Sam nodded, hung his head, and slumped back down in his seat.

Tobius was drying his hair on a towel and watching the exchange carefully. I'd almost forgotten he was there.

"I left a plate for you in the oven." I turned and grabbed a clean knife and fork, laying them the kitchen table. "Should still be fairly hot."

"Poached eggs with runny yolk?" Tobius asked, hopefully, and I rolled my eyes a little. He was never comfortable using American terminology when it came to food, once told me he felt it was too complicated.

This coming from the guy who could work with old English pounds, shillings and pence, then convert to American dollars without even thinking about it. Go figure.

"Just the way you like 'em," I replied, and shook my head laughing when he beamed with happiness, and tucked right in.

Pouring hot milk into our mugs, I watched Sam from the corner of my eye. He looked shot to hell, and on the verge of falling asleep where he sat. Stirring in the chocolate powder, and adding the marshmallows, I decided he'd be more comfortable back in bed, but knew full well the kid would put up a fight.

"Hey Sam? How 'bout I run you a hot bath?" He'd definitely hit the sack after a bath. It was a habit.

"Uh..." Sam looked over at me with a grateful smile, and blinked heavily. "Sure. Sounds like a great idea."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Once Sam was able to walk around for longer than five minutes without doubling over in pain, Tobius decided it was high time to put Palo Alto in our review mirror, and head for his hotel. Sammy slept most of the way, occasionally muttering in his sleep, sometimes waking up with a jolt and a swift gasp. That worried me a little, especially since he wouldn't talk about it. But I couldn't really blame him. I wasn't exactly the picture of happiness after what happened with Caleb, and every once in a while, a flashback would take me unawares and depression would latch on.

Beheading a close and trusted family friend? Not recommended for peace of mind.

It also had us all wondering who else might have taken Gordon's side. Tobius, just for safety's sake, had contacted Lenore and informed her. She assured him that Gordon, though unhappy and psychotic as ever, was well and truly under lock and key. But that wasn't to say he hadn't tried to get out. In fact, he'd made repeated escape attempts, and though that didn't surprise us, it still sent chills down our spines.

Sam was full of surprises. The minute we got back to the hotel, unpacked and made ourselves comfortable in front of a roaring log fire, each with a glass of brandy, he stood suddenly, and announced that he'd come to a decision.

"I wanna go to Stanford to study law." Sam's eyes swung nervously between Tobius and me, and he shifted from foot to foot. "That's if... uh... if that's still ok with you guys."

Tobius stood up, grinning from ear to ear, reached out and shook Sam's hand, before drawing the kid into a big hug.

"Good for you, boy. I'm so proud."

I was... how can I put this?

Stunned. Angry. Scared.

All three at once.

And yeah, I know that's a complete turnabout after all those months of trying nudge Sam in this direction. But after what happened recently? I was terrified.

Can ya really blame me for that?

"Dean?" Sam sounded worried, and I felt his hand on my arm. "You ok, dude?"

"I..." Getting up to stand by the window, I swallowed a few times. But my mouth felt dryer than a gnat's ass, so I took a large swig of brandy, nearly choking when it burned my throat. Staring into my drink and unable to meet his gaze, I got my breathing back under control, then broke the news. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Sammy."

"What?!" Now he sounded shocked, just bordering on angry, and he virtually staggered backwards in shock. I finally gathered the courage to look him in the eye, and began to explain.

"After what just happened? I can't let you go alone." It was the only compromise I could come up with that wouldn't piss him off, or ruin everything I'd spent the last god knew how many months planning. "We can get a place off campus maybe, I'll drive ya to and from class, the library, and anywhere else ya need to go. But you don't go alone."

To my surprise, Tobius let out an indignant snort.

"You can't watch him every minute of every day, Dean," Sire admonished sternly. "Sam's an adult now, and he has to do this for himself. That's one of the reasons for going to college."

I admit, it sounded a little heavy handed, but seeing as we had no idea who else Gordon may have brought on to his side, or where they might be lurking, the very thought of leaving Sam on his own at Stanford just made me feel sick.

It was also hypocritical. Tobius had once offered me the chance to go to college, settle down, have a 'normal' life, and gain some independence. But, not being an academic type, I chose the hunt, and likely always will.

This was Sam's turn.

"You once told me you guys wouldn't be far away," Sam interrupted the brief silence. "And as much as I'd sure miss you, it's time. Time to let me go my own way, and find out who I really am. Just like you wanted all along."

"Sam..."

"Dean, please listen to me," he continued with a tone that brooked no argument. "It won't be forever, I swear. And we'd see each other during the holidays, and maybe even some weekends you'll come visit me. And I'm always here if you need help with a hunt. But dude, you can't keep me wrapped in cotton wool..."

"More like bubble wrap," I muttered petulantly. "Cotton wool wouldn't hold you for long!"

Sam grinned.

"Ok, bubble wrap, whatever," he rolled his eyes, before his expression became serious again. "I'm sorry about what happened on that hunt. I know what I did was stupid, and I promise it won't happen again. I've learned my lesson. But... you've been there to help me all my life, and I... I just need to know I can do something on my own." Sam watched me closely, eyes pleading with me to understand. "And in spite of everything, Stanford is at least a safe learning environment."

I let out a short bark of laughter, but there was little humour in it.

"Oh yeah," I nodded with what must have been a sarcastic sneer, because Sam's face fell. "_Real_ safe huh? With _vampires_, and bewitched _lunars_ roaming round, snacking on the students, stalking my only son... forgive me, Sammy, if _I ain't convinced!_"

"Ok, this is getting us nowhere." Tobius huffed out a breath, and gently pushed Sam back into his seat. "Let's just all calm down, and think this through properly." He clamped a hand on my shoulder when I remained standing. "Come on. Sit down."

He waited until I reluctantly did as I was asked, then sat down opposite the two of us. I sensed a wise King Solomon moment coming on any second now.

"There are several options here," Tobius began, hands clasped together, elbows on knees. "Firstly, there are other campuses we can visit, but that isn't what Sam wants, and it won't put our minds at rest."

That was his subtle way of letting me know that he, too, was worried about Sam's safety. I'm not sure what that said about me. Perhaps Tobius just had more faith than I did.

"Then there's distance learning, which is basically what we've been doing so far," this time he was addressing Sam. "But..." he made a small clicking noise with his tongue, suggesting that option troubled him as much as it delighted me, then he sighed. "That's not all what higher education is for. Not for someone of Sam's age." Tobius raised an eyebrow at me. "It's about interaction with others, social skills, learning from people your own age, as well as older. It's about developing self-discipline and self-confidence. Trust me when I say that the academic knowledge he will take away from the experience, is only a part of it."

Ok, Mr Eloquence got me thinking.

Dammit!

I could feel Sam's hopeful gaze on me, saw his nervous fidgeting from the corner of my eye. Don't get me wrong. _Of course_ I wanted this for him. I desperately wanted to just give in and say yes.

"It will always carry a risk, being apart from his family. But there are various steps we can take to ensure Sam's safety, Dean," Tobius added quietly.

I hesitated, eyes flickering briefly to Sam again, then nodded. Maybe it was time to have a little faith.

"Ok. Shoot."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

_**So Dean's an anxious parent, Sam wants to go to college, and Tobius is playing peacemaker.**_

_**And true to form, I used this opportunity to lead on to some more Limp Sam. 'Cos I just can't resist it.**_

_**Kind regards,**_

_**ST xxx**_


	22. Chapter 22

**Hunter of The Shadows**

**Chapter 22**

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**Dean's journal is interrupted by an animalistic snore and he grins.**

"**Told ya Sammy," Dean whispers, smugly. "Ya still need more rest."**

**Sam is sprawled out across Dean's lap and most of the sofa. Long furry rear limbs stretch out behind, large muzzle resting on front paws, and snuffling lightly in between each snore. Even in deep sleep he's obviously aware of, and comforted by, Dean's presence, the slow sweep of strong, calloused hands as they continue stroking his ears, and smoothing down his fur. Or, perhaps, it's the soft crooning of Dean's quiet voice that comforts him, as the older werewolf recounts their life thus far.**

"**We gave him a good send off." Dean nods slightly in remembrance. "We headed back here, invited the werebear family over for an evening meal, and held a light celebration." He chuckles sheepishly. "At least, it started **_**out**_** light. There was so much noise and music, the cabin walls nearly caved in. And it ended with Gerald asleep outside on the log pile, and Sammy being sick all over Josie. She was really good about it though, just mothered him, cleaned him up and tucked him in, whilst Tobius washed the dishes, and I dried. Little Janaya-Maria must've thought we were all lunatics that night, but she seemed happy enough."**

**He pauses as Sam stirs with a small low doggy-whine, legs twitching in his sleep.**

"**Aw!" Dean grins. "Chasing squirrels in his dreams again, I guess. That means he's hungry."**

**Leaning down, Dean blows a puff of air into a spiky ear, laughing when Sam growls, lifts a massive paw and attempts to swat away the irritant.**

"**C'mon Sam," Dean whispers, gently tugging on the ear. "Let me up so I can get us some food."**

**Sam's only response is to open one eye and yawn widely, exposing an array of sharp, but impressive fangs. Dean sighs and attempts to slide out from underneath, Sam offering no assistance whatsoever.**

**Glancing at the camera Dean shrugs, takes a breath, and **_**heaves**_** his way to freedom, Sam rolling further into the sofa and grumbling in his wake.**

"**Don't laugh," Dean points at the camera like a teacher making a valid point. "Yeah, he seems all cuddly and cute right now, but don't let that fool you. Sam's a **_**big**_** fucking wolf, taller than me, and easily weighs the same as several bales of hay. So don't piss him off whatever you do."**

**He's about to head into the kitchen, but grabs the camera at the last moment, and peers into the lens, at the same time walking slowly across the room.**

"**He wouldn't need to bite, or claw your throat out." Dean waggles his eyebrows. "Sammy'll just sit and crush the life out of you."**

"_**I heard that!" **_**comes from the living room, voice a little scratchy with sleep.**

**Dean winks at his digital audience.**

"**Sounds like someone's **_**changed**_**." He raises his voice. "What sandwich dya want? Roast beef and mustard? Or pork and apple sauce?"**

**The camera turns and a sleepy Sam, naked from the waist up, is leaning against the doorway. His hurriedly thrown on jeans hang low on his hips, unbuttoned, his need for food more important than appearances. Alternately rubbing his eyes, and scratching at the kind of washboard abs that would make the diet coke boy green with envy, Sam hums deeply as he thinks it through.**

**Dean rolls his eyes, and Sam finally reaches a decision, his voice just a little too cute and shy.**

"**Both?"**

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It's true what they say.

Parting really is such sweet sorrow.

Sam's eyes filled with tears, but he bravely blinked them away. It was probably the longest hug in Winchester history, my boy clinging on to me, his long lanky arms wrapped round my shoulders.

But I was no slouch either.

I was amazed the kid could breathe at all, the way I held him close, my own arms tense and shaking with grief.

Which was a darn _stupid_ word.

Sammy wasn't dead or dying.

He was only going to college, and we'd agreed to give him two months grace before visiting, to allow him time to adjust. Sounded like a damn lifetime to me; since taking him from John, we hadn't been apart for maybe little more than a few hours at a time.

So yeah, this was gonna be tough as hell, on the _both_ of us.

Tobius was gazing at us, pride and sadness flitting across his face as Sammy gave in, and sobbed quietly into my neck.

_Dean..._

_S'ok Sam..._

_Gonna miss you._

_I know. Me too kiddo, but it's not forever._

_Promise you'll come visit?_

_You know I will._

_We _both_ will. _Tobius smoothly interjected as Sam pulled back from me, and nodded.

If Sam's puppy dog eyes are hard for me to ignore, then Sam's silent tears are downright impossible. Right then I was getting the full force of both, and it's a lethal combination. Sam stood there staring at me, eyes soft and cheeks wet with tears, looking so like the lost, lonely and frightened little boy I'd once rescued from John Winchester, that my heart just _ached_.

"You got ya new cell phone?" I smiled when Sam nodded forlornly. "Good. Keep it on ya at all times during the day, and keep it charged at night. Make sure you eat properly, drink plenty of milk, and get a good night's sleep. And Sammy?"

"Yeah?" he didn't even roll his eyes at my nagging, just sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve, gazing at me fondly.

"Don't forget to keep up your regular changes. Don't go more than a week in between at most."

We'd already mapped out the safe places for Sam to run at night, though the thought of him being out there alone chilled my blood. But this was important to his mental and physical health. Infrequent changes can lead to anxiety, paranoia, depression, and, according to Tobius, in extreme cases even suicide. Again, he didn't go into detail, and I got the feeling this information came about through another of his personal heartbreaks. Guy carries more weight, in that respect, than the moon.

"I have something for you, a sort of college gift," Tobius spoke quietly, surprising us both. "Actually, for all three of us."

He produced three small leather bound boxes.

Each contained a breathtakingly beautiful Rolex, in white gold.

"Lenore sent these a few days ago. Each one is handmade and individually crafted." Tobius pointed out the tiny motif under the crystal screen. All three were unique in that respect. Sam's motif was a red wolf, whilst mine was black, and Tobius' was black and gold. "They all contain a small tracking device that can be activated remotely by one of its sister-watches when needed." He pressed a small button on the side on his, and all three time pieces lit up like Christmas trees, and emitted loud beeping sounds. "Accurate to within ten feet, with a signal range of five hundred miles, the straps expand easily, so we will not need to remove them when changing, and they can be set to silent mode." Tobius smiled at Sam. "We can find each other no matter what."

It wasn't all she'd done to help us keep Sam safe. Since we can't smell vamps, it made sense to have one on campus. Even now, we were being watched over, as we said our goodbyes. Sam didn't know that part - we didn't want to worry him and I'm sure he'd have been pretty mad about it - and, frankly, there was only a minuscule chance he'd figure out he was being watched. Lenore had arranged a rota of hugely loyal friends and family to pass on through the campus every so often, each one charged with Sam's safety and under strict orders to keep their distance, and stay out of Sam's life. They would only report to us if something came up, but otherwise maintain _radio silence_, as it were. And it wouldn't be a constant vigil, more a sniffing round, and checking for signs of trouble. This was the deal for Sam's entire stay at Stanford, however long that would turn out to be. It sure seemed a lot to expect, but I guess Tobius' friendship with Lenore ran deeper than he let on.

I wasn't too sure about this arrangement at first, but Tobius assured me it was for the best. Had to admit, it made me feel easier about leaving Sam at Stanford, even though I'd never be more than a few hundred miles away at any given time; whilst Tobius would take on the hunts further afield, I would be circling, watching for trouble. So I guess you could say it worked in the manner of _circles of protection, _with an unknown vamp on campus forming the centre, me the middle clockwise barrier, and Tobius performing the wider counter-clockwise sweeps in the outer circle. Sammy knew nothing of this, of course. We couldn't ruin his aspirations to independence.

Elaborate, yes.

Waste of time and resources?

Not if it kept my boy alive and well.

I smiled at the kid and climbed into the Impala, leaving Tobius a private moment to say goodbye to his grandson.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

That first month went by slowly, with Tobius and me meeting up twice a week for a status report. There'd been little activity in our respective circles, which came as a relief, but at the same time it made life boring. We satisfied ourselves with night time hunts for fresh food, and when we realised this would be our lives for the next few years, began extending our investigations to haunting, myths and poltergeists.

Here, Tobius was the rookie. He'd only ever hunted strays, but now I was the teacher.

But the role reversal was short lived however, because it soon became apparent that you could indeed teach old dogs' new tricks, and Tobius resumed command. His SAS training and years on the hunt, all came into play, and I have to admit that a sawn-off sure suited him.

He would sometimes take off for a stray hunt on the other side of the country, but judgment and execution was carried out swiftly, and he was soon back in the outer circle.

In the meantime, I was missing Sam like crazy.

Sure, we called each other every night, but it just wasn't the same. Sam always sounded pleased to hear me, and we talked for hours. But no mention was made of a premature visit, and I wasn't going to offer.

It was imperative we stayed apart for those two months, or Sam would never overcome the loneliness, and feelings of homesickness, but most of all he would stay withdrawn from his new surroundings, unable to maintain the friendships he would so desperately need during his education.

Pretty sure Tobius didn't much approve of the nightly contact, but he never said a word. I think he understood the hard time we were both having. And besides, something strange and new was emerging that would ultimately make the decision for us.

I wasn't sure what it was, but the accompanying feelings of discontentment and sadness had me distinctly unsettled. For some reason they felt foreign, like they didn't really belong to me.

Yet, they _were _familiar... as though... like looking through a mirror, maybe...

... and seeing _Sam_ on the _other side_.

I know. I'm not making much sense, even in my _own_ head.

"Something wrong?"

Apparently, Tobius was picking up on it, because he was looking at me strangely. Again.

"I... I can't describe it... it's just weird..."

I tried, but the words weren't coming out right.

Tobius smiled knowingly and took a sip of brandy.

"But you've felt it all along," the smile became pensive, his eyes sharp and attentive. "Only now it's stronger than ever, the bond between you and Sam, the sense of separation, and loss..."

_You felt it when Gordon took Sam from you..._

The room was silent for a long while until I figured it out, and when my heart leapt, my eyebrows went with it as the truth sank in.

Tobius nodded slowly. _Now you understand._

_Sammy... my God. Is this how he's feeling right now? I... I thought it was just me! I mean, I know how _I'm_ feeling, but how... why...?_

Placing the brandy glass back on the coffee table with a small _thunk_, Tobius turned to look at me.

_Are you really that surprised?_

_Well... duh! Sure, we can mind read, but sense each others feelings?_ I shuddered, _that's just plain creepy, dude._

_It's not mind reading. We read each others thought projections, _Tobius huffed impatiently, knowing full well he was splitting hairs. _A__nd it was inevitable this would happen. You and Sam have a bond like no other._

I just stared at him, one eyebrow raised in question.

Another impatient huff, accompanied by the Tobius eye roll, and he started talking.

"When you turned Sam, you did something that has _never _been done before. No werewolf has ever been able to turn a sibling." He leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting comfortably on his knees. "Or any blood relative for that matter. Something to do with the genetic material being too similar and it causes a horrifying rejection, a kind of graft vs host disease, when the _donor_ DNA - _you _in Sam's case - tries to enter. What _you_ did," Tobius fixed me with a deep stare, "shouldn't have been possible."

That last sentence struck me dumb, and my hands shook so badly, brandy sloshed over the rim of my glass.

"In heart, he'll always be your little brother, but Sam being your _son _is _not_ just a metaphor, Dean, nor an accident. There's always a reason these things happen." Tobius was watching me carefully, gauging my reactions. "The fact is, the bond between werewolf parents and their children is especially strong, stronger than their human counterparts. But you and Sam were bonded by human blood _first_. And that makes all the difference. You were already a part of each other, and now..." his voice trailed off and I nodded.

I was beginning to understand.

Tobius? Big believer in fate and destiny, but that's not to say he believed it couldn't be changed. What he was implying was incredible. If he was right, Sam had been _destined_ to one day become my son. And if I was buying that, then I also had to be in the market for another theory.

_I_ had been destined to become _Tobius'_ son. Not by chance, or luck, but already decided.

My head was starting to ache.

"I think I've said enough for one evening." Tobius suddenly downed the rest of his own drink, then got to his feet. "I'll leave you to your thoughts," he whispered softly, gave my shoulder a quick squeeze, and crept off to the sleeping area.

Leaving me in a cold sweat, gut churning.

_Not just a metaphor... nor an accident_

He hadn't told me anymore than I already knew, but I couldn't help feeling Tobius had more to say on the subject. Sire had given me some answers, but in doing so created more questions.

My thoughts travelled back to a dark, dank street, what seemed like a life time ago.

_I knew you would survive... counted on it, in fact._

Tobius had somehow known, even as he turned me, that he was meant to be my alpha.

_Why me? _I'd once asked him.

Good question. Damn shame I never got much of an answer.

_Because._

It was only the first month, but I had to see Sammy.

I had to go talk to my _son._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam sure was security conscious, that much was evident by the tightly sealed windows and deadlocked doors. Tobius had leased the apartment for the foreseeable future, and fixed some heavy duty alarm systems, CCTV, and as an added extra, he'd taken the time to meticulously fashion a devil's trap on the ceiling above Sam's bed using invisible ink, the kind that glows under a black light.

I guess he thought there was a chance Gordon would send a demon Sam's way. Anything was possible.

I knew all the security codes and passwords, so getting in was no problem.

Once through the kitchen door, I stopped and stared. Even in the darkness of two am, the almost anally retentive _neatness _of the place stood out like a traffic light. The stainless steel sink and draining board looked like someone, namely Sam, had taken the trouble to _polish_ it. Everywhere I looked, in fact, bore the evidence of obsessive cleaning and tidying.

From the spotless cooker, to the carefully organised pine notice board.

I put down the food parcel, my so-called excuse for the untimely visit, and continued exploring. The cupboards were full, and all contents appeared arranged in alphabetical order.

Even the dishcloths were folded into perfect squares and stacked neatly.

The contents of the fridge were just as organised at the rest of the room, but the smell…

"Ugh!" I just managed to stifle the noise, but the scent of rotten meat was overpowering. Feeling sick, I slammed it shut, and headed at high speed for the bedroom, wishing like hell I hadn't left Sire asleep at the motel.

_Sammy?_

I could feel his pain, but it wasn't physical. It was highly emotional, in fact. Kid was pining badly and I had no idea how we could get round this.

The bedroom door was ajar, and I hurriedly pushed it all the way open and stepped inside.

"Sam!"

The room smelled of unwashed flesh, sickness and sweat.

The large lump under the bed covers barely moved when I gave it a harsh shake.

"Sammy, wake up!"

I was rewarded with a deep groan. Pushing back the blanket revealed Sam's too thin face, dark shadows under his eyes standing out against worryingly pale skin.

"D'n." His voice was weak and breathless.

"Sammy, what's goin' on?" I ran my hands over his shoulders and nearly gasped in fear. Sharp bones jutted through his tee shirt, and I was harshly reminded of the last time I found him malnourished.

"Jesus! When was the last time you ate?"

"M'sorry." Sam murmured, weakly. "Tried… couldn't…"

"C'mon, sit up," I muttered angrily, and helped him into a sitting position. It was unfair of me, and I knew that at the time, but worry and fear was just about sending me over the edge, and I needed something to cling on to. Anger was the only option available.

Clicking on the bedside lamp, I watched as he winced and blinked in the sudden light, and slumped into my arms. I grabbed his chin and thoroughly examined his eyes. The pupils were a little sluggish but at least the eye colour was normal, even if the banding around the irises were too thin. At least he hadn't been poisoned with silver.

No. Not silver. Sam's illness wasn't brought on by anything from the _outside_. It was something eating him up from _within._

Yeah, a non lunar that doesn't undergo regular changes will go bat shit insane, but not this quickly. It usually takes several weeks before the paranoia and obsessions take hold. But judging by the _unnaturally clean_ state of the apartment, Sam had been suffering a long time.

"Scratch that last question, Sammy." I softened my voice and stroked his matted, greasy hair whilst he rested heavily against me. "When was the last time you _changed_?"

Sam just shook his head slightly, as though lacking the strength to give a verbal reply.

He needed food. He needed milk. He needed to change.

And on taking an involuntary sniff, I quickly surmised the damn kid needed a bath!

But, first things first.

Remembering the food parcel, I gently laid the kid back on the bed and re-covered him with the blanket.

"Don't go!" Sam's hand suddenly snaked out and grasped my wrist. "P-please, d-d…"

"Ssshhh," I whispered and palmed his face. "I'll be right back, kiddo. Won't be long, I promise."

Sam nodded slowly, eyes hooded against the soft light.

I made the journey as quickly as possible, only stopping briefly by the super-neat bathroom to start running a hot bath.

A small twitch of the nostril was all it took, and I whirled round to find a grim-faced Tobius closing the front door to the apartment. Guess I should have known he'd follow me here. If I was expecting a stern, even angry glare, I was to be thankfully disappointed. Nothing but pure concern showed on his face, in his movements and body language.

"How did you know?"

The raised eyebrow was his only sign of humour, but it was enough.

"You forget. You're my son. I can tell when you're up to something." Tobius finally smirked a little, and I couldn't help the soft chuckle that escaped in spite of the circumstances.

In other words, he can feel everything I feel, and vice versa. We'd just never really put it to the test before now. Or would it be fair to say, _I_ hadn't paid enough attention to it in the past?

Huh. Guess that told me!

Maybe things were starting to make a little sense, after all.

"How is he?" Tobius got us back on the important subject with his usual efficiency.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling tired beyond belief.

"Not good. He's not been eating, and I'm pretty sure he hasn't changed in over a week." I glanced worriedly at the bedroom door. "Sam's always been the King of Emo, but this? This just ain't him. How can it get this bad so quick?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Tobius muttered, darkly.

Suddenly remembering the bath, I darted away and turned off the taps.

"He stinks pretty bad," I explained at Sire's curious glance.

Tobius nodded his understanding, and the two of us entered Sam's bedroom.

_Hey Sammy, look who's here._

Sam opened his eyes a fraction, and the corners of his mouth curled a little in a feeble smile.

_T-Tobius…_

Tobius sat on the edge of the bed and studied his grandson closely, while I unpacked the food parcel, silently thanking my common sense for including milk.

_Sam._ Tobius reached out and gently took one of Sam's hands into his. _We need to talk, young pup._

Sam blinked and nodded slowly.

_But first, I want you to drink some of this._ Tobius took the milk carton when I offered it, and I gathered the kid into my arms, holding his head up and mouth open.

God! Sam looked so sick, so tired and heartbroken, like he'd given up. Even though we were _right there_, in the room with him, I could still feel the waves of pain and despair rolling through him.

_Sammy, dude, we're here now. C'mon, kiddo…_

But he just shuddered and whimpered, the milk spilling over his chin and soaking his blanket.

What the hell was causing this? Why weren't we getting through to him?

_Sire…_

_I know._ Tobius tried again to feed Sam the milk, with little success.

Neither of us dared say it out loud. Didn't have to.

If Sam didn't feed soon, the effects would become irreversible, and he'd never be able to change.

And a non-lunar stuck in human form means trouble with a capital T.

For a start, he'd still be stronger than your average person.

But Sam would also go completely insane.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Authors notes:**_

**_I based a lot of this 'pining' on when I left for university, but mostly when I first moved to the Channel Islands 8 years ago. I was incredibly lonely, missing my home, family and friends, so I made sure never to go back for a visit for almost an entire year. Given the bond between Sam and Dean, I didn't think it fair to stretch it out that long! LOL!_**

_**I worried that perhaps this was a little too much Limp Sam, and way too soon after the last pummelling I gave him.**_

_**But I only worried a little and not for long.**_

_**What can I say? It's the thought that counts.**_

_**Cheers for all your reviews guys. Keep 'em coming, and maybe I'll let Tobius and Dean figure out what's happened to their baby wolf.**_

_**Kind regards,**_

_**ST xxx**_


	23. Chapter 23

Top of Form

**Hunter of the Shadows**

**Chapter 23**

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**Dean watches Sam eating as he talks, sharp eyes taking in every movement, every chewing action. It's as though he's reassuring himself that Sam's ok, that the past hasn't indeed swallowed him whole, bringing him right back in time.**

"**We were damn lucky Tobius turned up when he did. I don't know if I'd been able to figure it out otherwise."**

**Sam stops eating for a moment, and shrugs.**

"**Sure you would." He says it with such conviction, and outright faith, that Dean relaxes a little. **

**But the burden still rests heavy on his shoulders.**

"**M'not so sure, Sammy," Dean whispers sadly. "We kept in contact **_**every night**_**, and I still missed that something was badly wrong."**

**Sam smiles grimly. **

"**S'not your fault, dude. You couldn't have known. I was acting normal, right up 'til that last phone call. I was even feeling mostly ok for days before, apart from losing my appetite. Then" he clicks his fingers, suddenly, "it started. Like a slow release pain killer, that speeds up towards the end. Didn't even notice that I hadn't changed in so long."**

**Dean's silent for a long moment. His gaze catches Sam again, and something passes silently between them.**

"**Yeah. I guess it affects everyone differently…"**

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"I know you're tired, Sam," Tobius whispered. "But try again, just a few sips, and we'll let you rest for a while."

"Tr-trying…" Sam panted out.

The kid grimaced and choked, but managed to swallow a few drops of milk. Maybe our presence was helping after all; perhaps it was finally registering in his confused and muddled mind that he wasn't alone.

His family was here to look after him.

"Good boy," Tobius stroked his hair. "We'll try again in a little while."

But his worried eyes sought mine when the kid collapsed into me, head lolling helplessly against my shoulder.

"He's been cursed." Tobius voice was quiet, with no particular drama, but his words sent a bolt of shock through me.

"What?!"

"At the moment he's too out of it to tell us anything that might help." He got up and began pacing the room, muttering to himself.

"Where? How did they get in?" Tobius clearly wasn't talking to me, and I watched in amazement when he began furiously tearing the room apart.

There was no gradual build up, no _finesse_ that I would normally associate with the guy.

He just went _insane._

Gone were Sam's neatly arranged drawers, his clothes strewn across the carpet. Hangers were ripped from the wardrobe, shoes and sneakers went flying, and it was only when the items on the dresser were swept to the floor that I came to my senses and realised I had to stop him. Tobius' movements were growing ever more frantic as the seconds ticked by, and I could sense a terrible fury building inside of him. He was out of control.

_Tobius stop it!_

_Have to find it…_

_Sire…_

_HAVE TO FIND IT BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!_

I dropped Sam back lightly into his pillows, leapt off the bed and grabbed Tobius' arm.

"I said STOP IT!"

When his eyes turned my way, I stepped back with a barely concealed gasp.

Deep, fierce, powerful green glowed angrily, the band around the irises thinning alarmingly.

"Sire," I called gently, and bowed my head, but still kept my eyes on his. Submissive behaviour works for non lunar in the same way as dogs. It's often best to try respect and graciousness, before adopting a more violent solution. Especially since Tobius could easily kick my ass, even on a bad day. "What do we have to find? Tell me, and I'll help you."

The older werewolf blinked, and the terrible rage faded from his eyes. His shoulders relaxed, fists unfurled, and he took a sudden, sharp and shaky breath.

"My god, that was weird. Never felt a hex like this before." He leaned against the ruined dresser and shook his head. "Powerful, fast acting... so much... _rage._"

I was wondering if I would get a turn, when a light bulb clicked on.

In my head, that is.

"If someone wanted to curse Sam, they wouldn't need to come here to drop a hex bag on him. Too risky anyhow."

Tobius and I turned to stare at Sam's book bag, tucked in the corner of the room. By mutual agreement, we stalked the damn thing like a live animal, and tore it apart.

I shrugged, and held out a small, dark red, velvet drawstring bag. One flick of the Zippo, and it was burning up, bright blue flames eating it away to nothing. Ashes sparked and flickered, dancing their way downwards, and winking out before hitting the carpet.

Tobius and I stared rather guiltily at the remains of Sam's book bag.

I shrugged again.

"I'll buy him a new one."

Sam chose that moment to let out a loud, choked gasped, and his eyes flew open.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Only silver can really kill us. But we _can _be taken down in other ways.

Someone sure knew their stuff.

A hex powerful enough to enhance the victim's fears and emotions, to have them spiralling out of control and on the brink of madness, came from no light weight magic user.

In addition, it had to be someone who knew Sam, and through him, got to know us. It explained why Tobius fell under its power, but it didn't tell us why I wasn't affected.

Sam was pretty weak for a few days afterwards, his muscles partially wasted away, with little or no strength left.

Yeah, the right hex can work that way.

It didn't feel right to question him when he was so sick, so we left it alone.

We fed him milk to start off with, remembering all too well what happened the first time he ate raw meat on an empty stomach. Poor kid needed that like a hole in the head.

_Thanks Dean._

I said nothing, just gave him a small smile, and held the glass to his mouth.

_Are you mad at me?_

Glancing at his thin, worried face, I realised he was serious.

_God no. Not you kiddo. Never you. This ain't your fault. Damn hex bag was sewn into the lining of your book bag. You couldn't have known, Sammy._

He slurped greedily at the milk, obviously reassured that he wasn't in any trouble. I tried not to smile, but right then he reminded me of a three year old Sam, sitting at the kitchen table of whatever shithole John could afford at the time. His chubby little legs would swing to and fro; too short to reach the scummy floor, his tiny hands wrapped round a glass way too big for him, because John wouldn't waste money on things like sippy cups. The glass would be emptied noisily, and carefully laid back on the table, revealing a milk-moustached Sammy.

_Want some more?_

And there he was, same as the image in my head. Only the kid was older, now.

Sam smiled shyly through his milk-ringed mouth, too weak to wipe it clean. Grabbing the carton from the night stand, and happily dispensing another shot of milk; I realised I would've done anything just to see that look on his face again.

_Thanks Dean._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Are you ready for some real food Sam?"

Sam glanced up eagerly from the TV, and nodded.

"I'm starving, dude." He carefully sat up and leaned against his pillows.

Sam had been bedridden for a few days, and whilst I was playing nurse maid, Tobius was visiting the campus to explain that his _little brother_ was suffering from flu, and could he take class notes to help Sam catch up?

Sam and I had entertained ourselves for hours, imagining Tobius in amongst all those students, questioning, and getting to know their very human ways.

Or _silly_ ways, as he put it. Plastering on a dreadfully fake smile that was sure to scare the living crap out of anyone who crossed his path, Sire had left to spend the day around _noisy, petulant, bloody know-it-all students._ He'd obviously forgotten his grandson was now a member of this clan, but Sam was laughing so hard by that point he couldn't bring himself to point it out to him.

It sure was good to see Sammy smile again, though.

When he was awake enough, he made a list of all the people he'd met since joining Stanford, but the effort took its toll.

He was force to admit that whoever dropped the hex on him was probably near the top of the list. Someone he'd befriended and become close to.

But this one was news to me. Sam never mentioned _this_ person before in our many late night phone calls.

It was all "Peter made me laugh in class today," or "Rebecca helped me out when I got lost on campus" and "you really have to meet her brother Zack. He's a great guy".

The usual stuff.

But he never once mentioned _her._ And for very good reason.

"I like her. She's nice." Sam had fidgeted with his blanket, face adorably red with embarrassment. "I don't think it was her, Dean. It can't be. She's not the type."

_Newsflash kiddo. They never seem the type. That's why they're called witches. They're good at covering their tracks._

They're also very human, so how would we tell? Not even our unseen vamp, wherever he or she was right now, could have known.

Real clever.

Sam's eyes sparked with anger.

_Not her. Jess wouldn't do that!_

_Sam…_

_She _wouldn't!

I sighed inwardly, and sat down on the edge of his bed.

This was a tricky situation, and already I'd made a real pig's ass of it.

_Look, I know you don't want to believe your girlfriend…_

_She's not my girlfriend, Dean. At least, not yet. But… I was hoping…_

_Ok, Sam. I know you don't want to believe your _**friend **_is capable of hurting you. _I held his gaze with determination, silently letting him know I was on his side. _But is there anyone else who could've had access to your book bag?_

Sam's jaw clenched and unclenched a few times, before he looked away.

_I guess not._

My heart broke for the kid.

Clearly, whoever this Jessica Moore was, Sam had fallen for her, and fallen hard.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Ironically, it was Jess who'd approached Tobius, rather than the other way round. Not exactly the actions of the guilty, but maybe she was covering, throwing us off the scent.

"I don't think so," Tobius surprised me. He was a good judge of character, sure, but he'd made his mistakes in the past, trusting Gordon's word being one of the biggest. Which was why I questioned his judgment this time round.

"What makes you say that?" I could feel Sam's hopeful gaze swivelling between the two of us. "She could be a good actress."

Tobius shook his head, determinedly.

"No. She was genuinely concerned for Sam's welfare…"

"Really?" Sam interrupted, all nervous excitement. "What did she say exactly?"

"Well, she asked after you, said she'd heard from Rebecca that you were gravely ill with flu…"

I stared at the two of them in disbelief.

"Guys?"

But they just ignored me in favour of… _girly_ talk? Unbelievable!

"So… uh…" Sam stammered a little and ran a hand through his hair, now freshly washed and shining with health. "D-did she, ya know, like, sound like she really cared? Or… or maybe… uh… _interestedinmeatall?_"came out in a rush.

Tobius grinned from ear to ear, and I fought down an impatient growl.

"Guys?" I tried again, but no avail.

The older werewolf wrapped an arm around his grandson.

"I'd say, the young lady is head over heels in love with you, youngster, and if I'm correct, Jessica has certainly made a good choice in you." And when he went on to say "she has the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen on a lady, and her hair is as fair as the finest spun gold" I nearly puked on the spot.

When Tobius waxed poetic like this it often got sickening, like listening to Bon Jovi's Bed of Roses with the volume turned full up. Urrrghhhh!

That was it. Time to put a stop to this madness once and for all.

"GUYS!"

That got their attention.

"This is all very… uh…" I didn't know how to put it, so I decided honesty was the best policy "_gross_. So can we get back on track now, huh? Or have you two made a date to braid each other's hair and paint ya toenails?"

And had Tobius mentioned the word _love_? No way. Sammy was way too young to be falling in love, and besides, he'd only known the girl a month…

Tobius and Sam shared a conspiratorial glance.

"Never mind, Sam. Your father just has no sense of romance."

Sam nodded sadly. Actually _nodded sadly_, as though I was some kind of lost cause.

"I made him watch Love Story once, when I was sick one Christmas." Sam eyed me with sympathy, but I was glowering right back at him. "Right after Ali MacGraw died, and Ryan O'Neal broke the news to his estranged father, Dean threw his shoe at the TV set, yelled 'aw c'mon she's still alive I saw her breathe', announced the leading lady was, and I quote, 'a shit actress who couldn't act her way out of a paper bag', said Ryan O'Neal was probably gay anyhow, then stormed off to the nearest bar." The little shit finished up with a triumph grin.

Tobius shook his head.

"Philistine! That film is a masterpiece of true love, sacrifice, and emotional display."

"Frankly, I'm amazed he watched it at all…" Sam muttered, eyebrows raised, a small smirk on his face.

"Ah, yes, but in spite of his derision of the lovely lady," Tobius carried on grinning. Bastard! "I suspect Dean was rather taken with Ali."

Ok, _that_ was a little too close to the truth for my comfort, and I actually felt my ears turn red.

"See?" Sam pointed at me. "His ears have gone red. Classic 'Dean' sign of denial!"

"_Sam!_" The warning growl finally put a stop to the mockery. "Enough! If it wasn't Jess, then who the hell was it?"

Sam's face fell, the laughter faded, and his smile disappeared at once.

That made me feel like shit, actually. It was great to hear the kid laugh again, but we couldn't afford to waste any more time. Sam needed reminding that somewhere out there, a witch was out to get him. A witch who knew about werewolves in general, and us in particular.

I suddenly felt exhausted beyond reason, and leaned against the bedroom wall.

"Dean," Tobius murmured, and cleared his throat. "A word, if you please."

His tone wasn't angry, but I guessed he was gonna have a few things to say about the way I just handled things with Sam. I met his gaze, and nodded.

Out in the hallway by the bathroom, Sire tilted his head to one side, and studied me carefully.

"He's been through a rough time, my son."

"I know."

"We were merely jesting."

"Sure."

"Are you ok?"

I blinked. That took me by surprise. Why wouldn't I be ok?

"I'm fine," but I sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Just a little tired."

Next thing I knew, my head was spinning, the world tilting sideways, and Sire caught me by my jacket collar before I could hit the floor.

Then nothing.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

My first real thought was _hmm, nice soft bed, _and _what the hell's that god awful smell?_

Ah. Smelling salts. Worked a little slow, but got there in the end.

I opened my eyes, to find Sam standing in the middle of the room, my Zippo in hand. I just caught the after-flash, as though something had burned bright blue a few seconds ago.

"So, I got hexed, huh?"

"Yeah," Sam's worried eyes roved over my face. "How dya feel?"

"Ok, I guess." Actually, I felt quite refreshed. "How long was I out?"

"Three hours." Tobius came into the room, glass of milk in one hand, a plate of chopped raw beef in the other.

My stomach grumbled with delight.

As soon as I sat up, Sam was _hovering_. Plumping my pillows, tucking the blanket round me, lifting up my socked feet and sliding another pillow underneath…

I was about to snap at him, tell him to back off, until I caught the look on his face. Poor kid was scared to hell and back. I reached over and grabbed his hand, stilling his movements.

"Sammy, I'm ok," I informed him softly, running my thumb over his wrist. "Now sit down, you look ready to collapse. You ain't a hundred percent yaself yet, kiddo."

Sam nodded, but sat beside me. I didn't say a word, just shuffled over and made room for him on the bed. Kid has a tendency to get clingy when I'm hurt, like he can't stand the thought of leaving the room, in case I disappear or something.

I talked as I ate, sharing my food with Sam, relieved to see him eating properly.

"So, where dya find it?"

"I found it in the glove compartment of your car," Tobius answered softly.

I paused, mouth full of beef, and glanced up, eyes narrowed in anger.

"Someone messed with my car?" Only it came out "s'mon methed w'm'car?" But I was pretty sure by the double eye roll from my father and son – in perfect _sync_ by the way – they fully understood.

Three things you don't mess with.

Sammy, Tobius, and the Impala. In that order.

Any such crimes carry the death penalty as far as I'm concerned.

"That aside, and I'm sure we share your distain for such a desecration," Tobius shared an amused look with Sam. "Perhaps we should concentrate on the hex?"

I shrugged. Made no difference to me when it happened. The bastard who touched my car was getting strung up by his own testicles sooner or later. Just a question of time.

"So what was the purpose? To send me to sleep for a few hours?" I laughed at that. "Guy did me a favour."

"Exactly." Tobius crossed his arms, feet shoulder width apart.

"Huh?"

"When was the last time you slept?"

He'd sure got me there.

Last time I slept was the night before I came to see Sammy, which was…

_Shit. Nearly a week ago?_

The first few nights could easily be accounted for. I wasn't going to sleep with Sam so sick, but the following nights as he was getting better?

Yeah, we don't need a lot of sleep, but Tobius and I had been on hunt after hunt before we arrived at Stanford. And combined with our ever present vigil with Sam...

Tobius nodded grimly.

_Someone's trying to incapacitate us, leave us vulnerable._

It made sense. A witch wouldn't be able to outright kill us, being human, and way too 'cycles of nature' and floaty dresses with bat or spider motifs down the front, right?

But they could easily slip under the radar and prepare us for someone who might.

Like a vampire?

Again, another elaborate plan. So elaborate, in fact, it was making my head spin a little.

"That doesn't explain the hex on you," Sam was looking at Tobius.

"Sure it does," I answered for Sire. "It wormed its way in, somehow."

It had driven his love and anger towards a full on explosion. And losing your temper, means losing control, something Tobius rarely does. It would have blinded him, made him do something stupid.

"Anger could have lead to some serious errors of judgment, maybe even got you killed." I said that last part tentatively, not sure of his reaction.

But Tobius merely nodded, not the type to condemn a man for his honesty.

"That's about the size of it."

"How were you able to overcome it though? I mean you just shook it off, like it was nothing." I had to ask. That question had been bugging me for a while now.

"Not on my own, I didn't." Kind green eyes glowed with gratitude. "You were there, following pack protocol, bringing me back from the edge. You bowed down to your alpha, and installed reason just as my own logic was failing."

_The mark of a true leader. You followed your instincts and made the right decision._

Sam nudged me with his elbow, and grinned, eyes sparkling with pride.

_Nice going Captain Kirk._

_Shaddup Spock._

I couldn't help grinning back. The kid was proud of _me._ I liked the way that felt.

But it was time to get back to the problem at hand.

_Finally!_

So, a witch was setting us up for an attack, just like the werewolf with Caleb, but this time the goal was to make sure we couldn't fight back.

When Sammy came up with the plan, I wasn't impressed.

_They want us incapacitated? Let's give them what they want._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

It was around one am when we finally heard a small creaking from the rear of the apartment, a set up, from when Tobius and I deliberately loosened a few floorboards.

We'd set the alarms on silent. Switching them off altogether would have alerted the intruder we were on to him. Just as suspected, our assassin was a vamp. No sound, no scent, moving fast, and obviously a former student of Gordon Walker's boot camp, because the locks were no trouble.

That actually left me a little cold.

The assassin could have walked right in here any time when Sammy was on his own, but probably knew the kid was older, wiser and a hell of a lot stronger these days. Hence the need for a powerful witch and her nuclear warhex.

The guy must have been furious when we showed up, but the question remained. Who was the witch?

I got the feeling we were about to find out.

Sammy lay on the bed, his skin shining with what looked like a bad fever. But I'd just sprayed his face with water for effect. He was still a little pale, thin and weak from his own curse, so it was inevitable he would be part of the bait. But needless to say, I didn't like it one bit.

I was on the next bed, feigning a deep coma, breathing slow and regular.

Tobius was nowhere to be seen.

But I knew where he was.

Hiding in the shadows of the open bedroom door like a kid playing hide 'n seek. I wanted to laugh.

_Dude, hiding behind the bedroom door?_

_Got any better ideas?_

_No but… it just lacks something. _I sighed silently. _We're a real Mickey Mouse operation, huh?_

_Guess that makes you Mini Mouse, huh Dean?_

_Shaddup Sam._

_Boys, quiet now. I'm trying to concentrate._

A silhouette appeared in the open doorway. It was small, petite, and framed with long blond hair.

Yeah, I got a good eyeful before Tobius slammed the door on the vamps face, and the bitch crumpled to the floor.

"Well," Sire announced, more than a little smug. "It just goes to show that the old ways are sometimes still the best."

I leapt off the bed, grumbling under my breath, and turned on the overhead lamp. The vamp was out cold, arms splayed across the carpet, lying on her stomach. Long blond hair streamed down her back, and over her shoulders.

I felt Sam approach, sensed his heart ache.

_I'm so sorry kiddo…I didn't want to be right about Jess… Sammy? What are you doing?_

He knelt down and rolled her over, then looked up at me, eyes shining with relief.

_I don't know who this girl is, but it ain't Jessica Moore._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Tobius put in a call to Lenore and left the room, and we tied our erstwhile vamp to a chair. By the time she came round, Sire was back. And he was armed with an axe.

She didn't get to taunt us.

She didn't even get to open her mouth before Tobius was in full swing, and a familiar squelch echoed round the room.

The vamp's head rolled around to rest against my foot, and I kicked it with disgust. It bounced out the room and down the hallway.

_Ew, dude. _Sam wrinkled his nose. _I think t__here's a severed head in my bathroom._

But I was too busy glaring at Sire to care.

"I should have done that to Gordon first chance I got," he announced. "I wasn't about to make the same mistake a second time."

I nodded slowly.

"Ok, I get that. Care to explain why you iced the bitch before we could question her?"

Tobius set down the axe, pulled out a cigar, and with a hot air of bold smugness that could have raised the Bismarck, lit up, eyes dancing with amusement.

"Lenore provided me with everything we needed to know about this one."

"And?" I watched him, impatiently awaiting an answer, but the smug bastard was deliberately dragging it out.

He calmly blew out a smoke ring.

"Ever heard of Harvelle's Roadhouse?"

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Is it just me, or do these connections between us, John and Gordon keep on getting more and more ridiculous?" I bellowed out, pacing up and down the room, occasionally stomping on the vamp's head.

Sammy had retrieved it from the bathroom, said he couldn't bear the thought of getting naked in there with _her_ staring at him. Why he thought we'd leave it in there, I couldn't guess. Though it would have made a great prank.

So I stomped and kicked it on every pass, just 'cos I felt like it.

Made me feel better, ok?

It was a pretty gruesome sight at that point, blood and grey matter sliming over the carpet. It was gonna take more than a quick Shake 'n Vac to remove _those_ stains.

Tobius was observing me with considerable amusement, but I just ignored him. Let him laugh.

Sam folded him arms, eyes narrowed.

"What are you so pissed about, Dean? She's dead. Threat over with." He paused then added "for now."

I rounded on him, finger pointing at the dead vamp.

"Oh, _let_ me _count_ the ways!"

Harvelle's Roadhouse, an old hunter's bar, was owned by Ellen Harvelle, wife to hunter Bill, and mother to blond bombshell, Jo, who just happened to be our current, and very dead, guest.

Coincidence?

Ohhhh, think again my friends!

Now that Tobius mentioned it, I did kinda remember John talking about some bar in the back of beyond, where hunters gathered to share intel, compare working practices, generally get hammered and brag about their latest kill. Which pretty much all amounted to the same thing. Human hunters, as I might have pointed out before, are fairly single minded.

Turned out, Bill had worked with John a few times, and Ellen considered John to be a part of the family.

Yeah.

_Part of the family!_

So, whoops? We go and kill John.

And now we killed Ellen's daughter, who, Lenore reliably informed us, was definitely one of Gordon's roving lieutenants. Had been for around a year now, in fact. The only reason she headed here, we could only presume, was because this was the last place she'd heard from Caleb. Lenore couldn't confirm that, but she _did _confirm that ol' Gordo's team usually stayed in contact.

And that meant there were more of the toothed bastards out there.

It occurred to me to wonder how this Lenore person was getting info out of Gordon, then decided I didn't really want to know. We had more important things worry about.

Yeah, get in line!

Jo seriously lucked out when Sam Winchester showed up for something as ordinary as _class_, especially since she was only expecting to find a lead, not one of the actual _targets_.

Wanna know what else?

You might wanna draw up a chair, pour yaself a stiff drink for this one, guys, maybe smoke 'em if ya got 'em...

She practiced black magic.

Oh no wait, wait, wait! Its gets better than that!

She also specialised in concealment spells, and curses.

Jo was the ideal assassin, a vamp-witch, with knowledge of curses, armed to the teeth with hex bags, could disappear at will, and cunning as a fox.

Reeling yet, are ya? 'Cos I sure fucking was!

Dropping the hex on Sam must have been a walk in the park.

Just wait 'til he turns his back, making gooey eyes at Jess, then a rip, slide, and a quick stitch later, and Jo's walking nonchalantly away, innocent as a black widow spider in heat.

Perfect.

And that just got me riled all over again, because now I was thinking through all the possibilities.

Her unusual ability to cloak up like a Klingon Bird Of Prey obviously meant she got to listen in on Sam's conversations.

Of _course_ she wasn't going to pass up an opportunity like that.

As Jo found out a little more, she probably added extra ingredients to the first hex bag, just in case one of us showed up out of the blue.

Possibly, Sam talked about Tobius more than me, which made sense. Sire's the pack alpha after all, and Sam's 'oldest brother' in the eyes of the human world. Hence, the effect on Tobius. It matched, 'cos Tobius is almost as emo as Sam.

She must have watched us from a distance, when I was taking care of Sam during his own curse, and that felt a little creepy. It was a good hex, though, as sleep curses go, and might have worked for longer, if not for Tobius' own brand of smelling salts. Once the hex bag burned up, there was a chance I might not have come out of it. I guess we'll never know for sure.

So, Jo got her measure of Tobius, learned all she could about the pack alpha, and used it well.

Damn shame for her she'd never read the Tobius Le Salle's book of Tactical Manoeuvres, lesson one:

'When ambushing a vamp, hide behind the door.'

That about summed up the night's events.

This was becoming more and more farcical by the second.

Was it any _wonder _I was pissed?

"Who in hell thinks this shit up anyways?" I finished on a snarl, and caught Tobius trying to hide a grin.

Sam grimaced and tilted his head to consider that.

"I do see your point."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

_**I was trying to aim away from spells etc, feeling it was a bit too Harry Potterish, but somehow I got steered in that direction against my will. **_

_**Sorry guys, but I've finally gone round the twist and given you Jo Harvelle, a vamp that's also a witch, and can make herself invisible. What a crock of shit.**_

_**I'll bet any Jo lovers out there are bloody glad I killed her off now, eh?**_

_**I know this was, as Dean put it, a little 'farcical', but then I think about certain scenes and episodes of S4 (the walking, talking, giant bi-polar teddy bear of Wishful Thinking comes to mind!) and I believe I can just about be forgiven. **_

_**Just this once.**_

_**And besides, a little 'farcical' from time to time, never hurt anyone.**_

_**Poor Dean's feeling a little frazzled. Gotta love a ranting Dean. I tried to mimic his infamous rant from Yellow Fever, but I'm not sure I pulled it off. **_

_**Note the slight dig at the author towards the end there? I don't think Dean likes me very much right now. **_

_**Cheer guys. Give me some nice reviews for this chapter and I'll try to be a little more serious next time.**_

_**Kind regards,**_

_**ST xxx**_


	24. Chapter 24

**Hunter of the Shadows**

**Chapter 24**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

**Dean rummages through his duffle, muttering in frustration.**

"**Dammit! I know I put them in here…**

**Sam glances up, curiously.**

"**Something wrong dude?"**

"**Thought I had a deck of cards," Dean huffs and pouts. "Was so looking forward to kicking your ass at poker."**

"**Yeah right!" Sam chuckles softly. "Try the inner zip compartment."**

**With a cocky wink, Dean reaches into the duffle again, but suddenly freezes, grin fading.**

**He's staring down at something in his hand. **

**It's scratched and muddy, with dried specs of blood. When he runs a thumb over the cracked surface, some of the mud falls away.**

**Sam glances up again, wondering at the sudden silence, then his eyes drop to Dean's hand.**

"**Do ya think…?" Sam swallows hard, then tries again. "Dya think, may be, it's true?"**

**Dean's head shoots up, his eyes alive with an angry feral gleam.**

"**No way."**

"**How can you be sure, Dean?" Sam's eyes are brimming with unshed tears. "She sounded pretty certain. And... and we haven't heard from him..."**

**Dean sighs, some of the heat gone from his gaze when he glances over at Sam's distraught face. He's gone back into protector mode, and Sam knows Dean will fix this. **

**Somehow.**

**Someway.**

**Because Sam still has faith in his **_**fatherbrother**_**.**

**Dean only hopes that faith is warranted.**

"**I… I'd just know, ok?" he whispers in reply.**

**And for Sam, who's been an adult for quite some time now, that's enough.**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The circle of protection tightened up.

I shouldered my way into Sam's apartment, fully expecting a fight when I dumped my duffle down on the bed in the guest room. But when I turned to face him, one eyebrow raised in readiness for the battle, his face was lit up by a relieved smile.

"Thanks Dean."

I just nodded and ruffled Sam's hair. He made a small noise of complaint and ducked away, but I grinned and followed him into the kitchen.

"So squirt, what you want to eat? I'm cooking tonight."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Please don't call me that in front of the other students, especially…" he suddenly blushed, and ducked his head.

My grin widened.

"Uhuh," I drawled. "Especially… _not Jess?_"

Sam's head shot up again and he fixed me with a scowl.

"I mean it Dean… not a kid anymore..."

I just waved him off.

"You know I won't, Sammy," I was being serious now. Couldn't do that to my boy. But I sure could tease him about it. "I'll just wait 'til ya go to the bathroom, and show her all your naked baby photos."

Not that we had all that many. Most were burned up in Kansas, but John had kept a few in the Impala.

"I'm not embarrassed by those," Sam shook his head with absolute certainty, "I was a cute baby. She'll be cooing all over me in no time."

Chuckling, I elbowed him out of the way and delved into the newly cleaned and restocked fridge.

"Yeah," I threw a packet of mince beef onto the kitchen worktop, "and then she'll be begging to make one with ya!"

"!-!"

"You ok there dude?" I didn't even look up from the saucepan, just carried on preparing the Bolognese. But inside, I was laughing my ass off.

"_Y-yeah…_" Sam made another choking noise, "_something got stuck in my throat… probably just dust..."_

"Uhuh."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Tobius checked in with us once a week and visited most weekends. Sam recovered quickly from the incident with Jo Harvelle, and Lenore had been in contact with her on-campus vampire. Apparently, the vamp-bitch had been just as easily cloaked from her own kind as she was from us. It was therefore considered redundant having Lenore's vampire watcher around, so he or she was recalled to base in Florida.

Life ticked along nicely for a while.

I worked a job at the Student bar, where it was easier to keep my ear to the ground, befriend the most incorrigible gossips, and keep an eye out for Sam during the day.

It made Sam pretty popular, having an older brother running the student body's only watering hole, though I have to say, the kid was popular in his own right.

Sam treated others with respect and courtesy, whether or not they deserved it, studied hard, and helped the struggling students without waiting to be asked. That made him one of the most likeable guys on campus.

I felt kinda smug.

And proud of my baby boy.

Aw, c'mon. I had every right to be!

Sam was thriving and growing, happier than I'd ever seen him.

_Growing. _

That took me a while to figure out, but I suddenly realised one morning that my son was actually towering over me by a few inches. Try as I might, I couldn't figure out when it happened, but it must've been going on right under my… uh… _nose?_

So that kinda sucked. I was now officially the shortass of the family, with Tobius about one or two inches taller than me.

But Sammy still 'looked up' to me with trust and hero worship, so I guessed I could live with it.

In the normal course of student relationships, I got to meet Jessica and spent a little time getting to know her. And yeah, I sure could see why Sammy was so besotted with her. From the very first second, when Sam brought her to the apartment for dinner one evening, I was smitten. Not only was she a beautiful woman, and a sweet one at that, but it was clear to any idiot with eyes that Jess had fallen deep for Sam.

"It's an honour to meet you at last, Miss Moore." I bowed and kissed her offered hand. Yeah, Tobius sure had influenced me over the years. "I've heard a lot about you."

Jess blushed prettily, and laughed.

"All good I hope."

"Absolutely!" I gave her the quick appreciative Dean Winchester Roving Eye, which actually made her laugh again, and declared her more than fit for my boy. "And I have to say, you are _way_ out of my little brother's league." I clapped a hand on Sam's back, and grinned at his red face.

_Ya did good, kid. She's a real honey._

Sam blinked and ducked his chin, a shy grin forming.

_Thanks Dean._

"So, Miss Moore." I smiled warmly at the young woman, who was making some serious puppy eyes of her own at Sam. "Hope you're hungry."

"Completely!" She rolled those beautiful blues, and chuckled. "Been studying all day, haven't had a chance to eat beyond a bag of Doritos! And please, call me Jess."

She was great company, and fell into our 'brotherly' teasing like she was meant to be there all along. And could she eat! Couldn't work out where such a darn tiny girl packed it all away, but I sure approved.

Hearing the two of them laugh so easy, how they _gelled_... Tobius once said I ain't the romantic type, but I could certainly appreciate the concept seeing these two together.

In Tobius' words, Jessica Moore was delightful company.

_So? Whadya think?_

I caught Sam's eye for a moment, when Jess was sipping her wine. He was gazing at me, those big ol' puppy dog eyes full of hope.

_I could definitely get used to having her around._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Tobius was more than happy to see Jessica again, and greeted her warmly whenever he was in town. I often wondered what she'd say if she knew Tobius was actually Sam's grandfather.

Come to that, what would she have said if she knew of my true relationship to Sam?

As time moved on, Sam and Jess became practically inseparable. I should've felt left out, like some kind of werewolf 'empty nest' syndrome. But Jess made that impossible, treating me like her own brother, and in any case, I was just so pleased for Sammy.

Jess didn't come between us.

In fact, she became a part of us.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

I could feel Sam's anxiety. He was building up to something, and I knew what it was.

_You sure about this Sammy?_

_Uhuh… but I… I just…_Sam threw his hands up in frustration, and paced the living room.

_You're wondering how to go about it?_

_Well, duh!_ He stopped his pacing for a moment just to stare at me. _Maybe I could…_

_No. If you're serious about this woman, then you have to tell her the truth. You have to give her the choice. Can't have a true solid relationship without honesty._

Yeah. Dean Winchester, expert relationship counsellor. Go me!

Sam dropped his gaze and looked utterly miserable.

_She's gonna freak. Scratch that, she's gonna think _**I'm**_ a freak._

Getting up off the couch, I moved over to him. Rubbing a hand up and down his back, soothingly, I studied his sad face.

_Not if she truly loves you, Sam. Sure, she'll probably go into shock, maybe scream blue murder, call you a lunatic, call _**me** _a lunatic, faint or have a heart attack…_

Sam snorted softly.

…_but once she gets passed that, she'll see you're still the same man she fell in love with. Still _**her**_ Sam. Just be patient with her._

_I guess. _Sam nodded slowly and huffed, running a hand through his mop of hair. _Only one way to find out, huh?_

_Damn straight._

I'll be honest. I sure didn't envy him the task.

There were several ways it could go, and each one had the potential to end in disaster and heartbreak. But Sam had chosen his mate for life. It was unavoidable.

If Jess truly wanted to be a part of it, to be with Sam, then she needed to know the truth.

It's not considered essential that a life partner also be a non-lunar; humans are allowed in our club, though it is unusual. In larger packs than ours, distant relatives can volunteer to turn the new comer. It's considered etiquette.

Tobius, God love him, had already been in contact with an old pack, asking for assistance from the alpha in case Jess decided to go all the way on this. It wouldn't do for Sam, Tobius or myself to turn Jess. That would bind her to us by blood, making her sister, daughter or granddaughter.

And that would really put the block on Sam's relationship with her in some pretty _major _ways.

But I was getting ahead of myself.

We had no idea how the girl would react to all this. It was risky. She could escape and run, tell the authorities to lock us up in a mental institute, and throw away the key.

Of course, we'd be long gone by then, and Sam would have to give up everything he'd worked so hard for, just to disappear.

As I said. Risky.

But the fact remained, it was gonna be tough for her to believe.

So I came up with a _cunning plan_. A definite sign Tobius had me hooked on Blackadder.

Which shoulda been a warning all on its own...

Sam waited anxiously in the hallway, eyes darting nervously from me to the front door, and back.

_Stay calm, Sammy. She's here._

_I know. I can smell her perfume…_

Thankfully, before he could go all googly-eyed, the doorbell rang loudly, and the both of us nearly jumped out of our skin.

_Here we go…_

Jess stepped inside the moment I opened the door, a bright smile on her face. She automatically leaned up on tiptoe and kissed my cheek, chatting nineteen to the dozen about the weather, _Sam_ of course, her grandmother's chocolate fudge cake recipe she'd dug out especially for me, asked after Tobius… I just nodded along, making the appropriate noises here and there.

Then her eyes lit on Sam.

"Oh my God!" Jess dropped her bags, a wondrous smile forming. "What a beautiful dog! And he's _huge!_"

"He's actually a very rare breed of wolf," I offered tentatively, hiding the wry laughter that threatened to bubble up inside.

"Where did you get him? Can I stroke him? Is he dangerous?"

Only in the wrong hands, I wanted to say, but instead I just shrugged and tactfully ignored the first question.

"Sure. He's a big softy. He won't hurt _you._"

_Easy now Sammy. Here's your chance. Take it slow._

Sam's tail thumped the floor lightly, soft eyes filled with hope and love. His girl was reaching out a hand, beckoning to him, and the poor kid couldn't hold back any longer. For a big wolf, he could still make all the wriggly, squirmy puppy movements when he got excited, and it still looked cute as hell. He bounded over, tongue hanging out, looking all stupid and happy when Jess immediately knelt down, and wrapped her arms around him. He buried his thick muzzle in her neck, snuffling softly when she giggled like a little girl.

Jess drew back and gently scratched Sam's ears.

"What's his name?"

I paused, wondering if this was such a good plan after all. But I couldn't ignore _this_ question. And now was not the time to lie, not when the truth was so important.

"Sam. His name is Sam… uh…" I was finally about to explain, but thankfully, she wasn't listening by that point.

She was too busy studying the young wolf's face, her smile fading a little.

My inner alarm bells started sounding.

Loudly.

"Sam," she nodded slowly, brow furrowed in confusion. "Yeah, it suites him somehow… I… uh… this is gonna sound _really_ damn stupid… but it feels like I've _known_ him. Like I've met him before."

Oh, it's about to get better than that, lady, so hang on tight. You're in for a bumpy ride.

Jess stared deep into Sam's eyes, then gasped when they suddenly started glowing. Backing away, she nearly tripped over her own feet in panic.

"Wh-what _is _it? What sort of wolf has eyes that can _do_ that?" she shrieked in fear.

Sam, heartbroken, padded forward a step, but stopped when Jess backed off again.

"Jess…" I began, but the girl was on the verge of panic.

Yeah, this was a _real_ bad idea.

So much for the cunning plan.

Sam whined pitifully, then did something that was even _worse_ than a real bad idea.

He began to change.

Slowly at first, his nose shortening, ears sliding down, and body shaking and morphing like a power ranger on crack.

Jess's eyes were wide, round, and panicked, and by the time they rolled back in her head, Sam's change was complete, and he lunged to catch her.

Cradling the poor girl in his arms, Sam, his own eyes sad and remorseful, looked up at me.

_That's not gone well._

_It was to be expected, Sam. Now c'mon. Let's get her comfortable._

Sam carried Jess effortlessly into his bedroom, laid the girl on the bed, and covered her with a blanket. Slipping on a pair of jeans, he turned to face me.

_Dya think…_

I shook my head.

_I don't know Sammy. We'll just have to wait. If it helps? My gut tells me she'll come to terms with it. Might take a while, is all. I mean, changing right in front of her probably wasn't the best plan. Not when she was already scared._

He nodded sadly, then lay down beside Jess, tucking her into his arms.

_I know. But I couldn't seem to stop, like my body was reacting, determined to show her, whether she was ready or not._

I didn't know what else to say.

Giving his shoulder a quick squeeze, I quietly left the room, closing the door behind me.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam told me a little of what transpired when Jess woke up.

Voice small, face heartbroken, she'd asked him what was going on, claimed she'd had a terrible dream, and where was the wolf with the glowing eyes?

"And what did you say in response?"

Sam shrugged, morosely.

"I told her that it wasn't a dream, that I'm a werewolf, along with you and Tobius. Told her of our true relationship. That you're my father, Tobius my grandfather."

I winced.

"How did she take it?"

"Really well, actually." Sam snorted sarcastically. "She said it changed nothing, that she still loved me, but wanted me to seek psychiatric counselling from campus."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

"So? What next?"

"I sought to make her believe me…" Sam's hesitancy caught my attention in the worst possible way.

"Sammy?" I stared at him, worriedly. "_What_ did you _do_?"

"I… uh…" Sam swallowed nervously. "I let my eyes glow again, then performed a partial change with my hand."

_Oh God! _I resisted the urge to scrub a hand down my face. "And she reacted… _how?_"

This was the most miserable I'd seen him look in a long time.

"She asked, why _her?_ What did it mean for her?" Sam sobbed out the next part. "She thought… _she asked if I was going to kill her_."

That must've hurt.

Hearing her say out loud that she didn't trust him, had to sting like a bitch. Didn't matter that we couldn't really blame her. Poor girl just had her eyes opened up about werewolves in the most abrupt and shocking way possible.

But it still hurt.

Sam sniffed loudly, and I waited for him to continue.

"So… uh… I told her... I loved her... could never do anything to hurt her, stood up, walked to the bedroom door... opened it and stepped back." Soulful eyes gleamed with sadness. "She walked away Dean." He was barely holding the tears at bay, and his voice was breaking with grief. "She just walked away from me."

I broke out into a broad grin.

"Sammy? You did the right thing."

"Huh?" The kid looked at me as though I'd lost my mind.

"You let her go, proved she _can _trust you." I wrapped an arm round his shoulders, "Jess'll be back, kiddo. Once she's thought it through. Anyone can see how she feels about you, and that don't go away over night." I tapped my nose. "Girl's a smart cookie; she'll figure it out in a few days, maybe a week. Now put on a shirt, and some shoes. Let's go get a beer to celebrate."

The kid looked shell shocked and bewildered, but did as he was told.

And a few hours later, with Sammy barely walking in a straight line, Jess proved me right. She'd figured it out a damn sight faster than I gave her credit for, though.

Jess was sitting on the doorstep, shivering in the cold, worried eyes watching us.

She was the first to move.

"Sam... I..."

Without saying a word, I handed over her drunken boyfriend, who was by now gazing at the girl, completely love struck. And yeah, his eyes were glowing again, but Jess didn't seem to mind, even seemed fascinated, and, if her scent was anything to go by, hellishly turned on.

At least _all _his inner wolf switches weren't shorting out this time. Not sure how she might have taken it if his nose and ears had begun morphing, but judging by the look on her face, she'd probably have thought it was cute.

I shook my head in amusement.

Women, huh?

Guess I'll never understand you mysterious creatures.

_Guess_ that's why I love you so damn much: _always _full of surprises.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

I don't know what they said to each other, and I didn't want to. That was between Jess and Sam, and, maybe one day, when the pain dies down, and his heart's a little less fragile, he'll tell you himself.

But they'd obviously made it up that night.

'Cos I ended up sleeping on the couch, iPod playing loudly though the tiny ear pieces. Anything was better than listening to the happy noises coming from Sam's room. Had to respect the kid's privacy.

For my own sanity.

The walls weren't thin, soundproofed in fact, but with werewolf hearing? I'll leave the rest to your imagination guys, 'cos _seriously_… that was my _son _in there!

Though I must say, never thought a girl could be turned on by _howling, _of all things. I might have to give that one a try someday 'cos _man! _What was he _doing _to the girl? Sounded like death-by-orgasm!

_That's my boy!_

_Dean! Get out of my head! This is private time!_

Grinning with pride, I rolled over, turned up the volume, and drifted off to sleep.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The first warning came, when we heard nothing.

Something was wrong.

Tobius usually checked in with us every Wednesday night, around 23:00, without fail.

But this week was different.

Our Rolex watches remained silent.

Our cell phone calls went unanswered, and passed straight to voice mail.

'_Please leave your message after the tone.'_

I even called from the bar, where students in fancy dress costumes milled about, getting drunk. Jess was in a hot little nurse's uniform, and I was trying to remind myself that this girl was _my son's mate_, and she was _in love_ with Sam.

Besides, there were plenty of other fish in the sea, not that I had much time to notice.

It was a tough night. I was ran ragged, pouring shots, clearing up spills, washing glasses, doing the whole Tom Cruise 'Cocktail' routine, but all the while, Sammy and I were worried senseless.

Tobius was more than a big boy. He was over eight hundred years old. So we agreed to wait another twenty-four hours before taking action.

Halloween was never Sammy's favourite time of year, ever since he watched Jamie Lee Curtis nearly get butchered by her own brother. He never watched the films that followed on in the series, but the opening sequence of John Carpenter's Halloween put him off clowns for life.

Sam was fiddling with his shot glass, occasionally glancing at his Rolex, and trying not to look uninterested.

I wasn't much better off.

But, it was Jess that let us off the hook.

"Go on. You guys aren't enjoying this, and Dean? You look exhausted." She knew enough about wolf lore, by now, to realise this wasn't good news. "_We_ can clean up when this is over. _Now go get_ _something to eat and get some sleep!_"

She nodded over at Rebecca and Zack, who rolled their eyes and accepted that it was too late to escape the clean-up campaign. Jess was a force all of her own when she put her mind to something.

Sam got to his feet, and grasped the girl gently by her upper arms.

"You go straight to _our_ apartment, ya hear me Jess? No detours. Just wait for us there."

Ok, _that _caught my attention.

_What's wrong Sam?_

But he ignored me in favour of his girl, worried eyes dark and fixed on her.

Jess smiled up at him, and tenderly stroked his cheek.

"You know I will…"

But he didn't let her finish.

"Zack? You mind walking Jess home?"

"Sure man." Zack nodded with a solid reassurance that suggested a hurricane wouldn't take him down. I just felt thankful Sam's friends were so loyal. "Becky and I can both walk her home. Your pad's on the way anyhow."

I grabbed my jacket, and joined Sam in front of the bar.

Jess smiled worriedly.

"I sure hope you find him safe and well," she whispered softly, and squeezed my hand.

Sam was biting his lip, looking troubled.

Jess was still getting a handle on things, so Sam hadn't asked her _the_ question yet. But I knew he was working up to it. Had even dragged me round jewellery stores, helping him pick out the perfect engagement ring. And yeah, enduring "aw you guys are so sweet" and "so wonderful to see such young lovers commit to each other" from the shop staff, more than freaked me out, and made Sam laugh his ass off.

But now I could see he was edgy, not wanting to leave, even with his best friends watching out for his girl.

"Dude," I spoke quietly. Zack and Rebecca had no idea what was going on, but we trusted Jess to find a likely excuse for the urgency. "Why don't you stay here, huh? Help Jess and the guys. I can check things out. If I find anything…"

But Sam just shook his head.

"No. It's ok." _Jess'll be safe with these guys._

But something sure was bugging him about leaving Jess, and the damn near soul consumming kiss he gave her, confirmed it.

However, that stubborn tilt to his chin told me the subject was closed.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

As it turned out, we didn't have to wait twenty four hours.

We were five minutes into the journey across campus, when our Rolex watches emitted a loud beeping noise, and lit up, glowing eerily in the darkness.

_Sammy, silent mode. Now._

The kid nodded, and the beeping noises ceased, the backlite shutting off. We could still see the readout on the tracking device however, a small blip like a heart monitor, and it told us that Tobius was merely five hundred yards away, to the south, just off campus.

Just one problem. Our noses didn't agree with the tracking device.

Our noses told us there was _nothing there._

_Vamp?_ Sam stared dead ahead, watching the darkness.

_Probably…_

Suddenly, the blip on the tracking device sped up, as though whatever was posing as Sire, was belting towards us at one hell of a rate.

_Shit!_

Just as suddenly as it started, the blip ground to a halt.

And then a voice, soft and female, _used to command_, called out to us.

"You have nothing to fear from me, Sam and Dean." A tall, attractive woman, with dark red hair stepped out of the shadows and into our path. After strange, dark eyes swept over us a few times, she bowed her head respectfully in greeting. "I bring news of Tobius."

If I wasn't mistaken, and God knew I hoped I was, a thread of sadness had wound its way into her tone.

Sam and I shared a glance, shifting slightly from foot to foot, ready for an attack.

"Who are you?" I called out, though I already had a good idea, and her answer came as little surprise.

"I am Lenore. Founder of the Passive Nests, and friend to Tobius Le Salle."

She held out her hand.

A Rolex, with a black and gold wolf motif on the face, glinted up at us in the dim light.

It was cracked, filthy, and covered in flecks of dried blood.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

_**Yeah... I know.**_

_**But it was necessary at this stage.**_

_**There's a lot of trouble ahead... **_

_**Don't hate me too much, my darlings.**_

**_Anyone looking to write a missing scene on this one? 'Cos I think Sam and Jess are crying out for it re: conversation before the happy noises! Please, be my guest if you wish to include the happy noises... no permission needed. LOL!_**

_**Kind regards,**_

_**ST xxx**_


	25. Chapter 25

**Hunter Of the Shadows**

**Chapter 25**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

**Sam stares at the Rolex in Dean's hands.**

"**I guess if it weren't for Lenore, we might never have known what happened to Tobius," Dean's eyes are suspiciously moist. He lays the watch down carefully, and studies it, his expression both sad and affectionate.**

"**Beautiful time piece. One of the best in the world, so they say." Dean's voice grows a little distant, as memories swamp him once again. "Never fails. Just keeps right on ticking…"**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Where is he?" Sam demanded, getting right up in Lenore's face. "When's he coming back?"

She didn't seem flustered or angered by the youngster's presumptuousness. More saddened.

Sam was blind to it, but I could see.

I could see it on her face.

"He's not coming back, Sammy," I whispered, sadly, though I was struggling to believe it. Guess a part of me never would.

Lenore made the announcement calmly, and with all the dignity expected from a chief vampire.

"Tobius was involved in a stray hunt on our territory a few days ago. It was a female non-lunar, and she'd been bugging us for days, testing our boundaries, trying to get in. I feel it only fair to state that Tobius was there at my request." Lenore dipped her head for a moment, as if in shame, then continued. "We believe the stray was attempting to free Gordon Walker, but your Sire finished her off with silver. Unfortunately, whilst our attentions were elsewhere, Gordon saw a means to escape, killing three of my nest, and has so far evaded capture. We suspect he had help, though there's been no proof."

We were waiting for the rest, and Lenore didn't keep us hanging. What she told us came as no surprise, but still made my heart stop in my chest.

"Tobius, terrified Gordon would seek retribution by heading for his pack, took off in hasty pursuit. We haven't heard from him since."

A cold, pale hand rested on mine as I carefully took hold of the battered Rolex.

"This was all we found. The blood, as you know, belonged to your father. There was no trace of Gordon."

She didn't need to tell us the rest. Sammy and I could smell the sharp tang of silver in the dried, black flakes of blood, and my mind conjured up all kinds of sick and twisted images, the various ways Gordon might have disposed of the body.

"I am truly sorry for your loss, Sam and Dean." Lenore meant every word, and for someone we'd only just met, I was touched by her concern. "Perhaps you would be safer staying with the nest. As Tobius' remaining family, you'll always be welcome in Florida. He was one of my oldest and dearest friends and we will not turn you away."

I nodded, heart and soul filling with pain and anger. Denial was at the forefront of my thoughts, and it would be a long time before acceptance was invited in.

If ever.

After eight hundred years, no way could it end like that. In fact, the more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed.

Tobius losing to a newly turned vamp?

Possible, yeah, I'll admit that much. But definitely not probable.

Maybe I was refusing to face reality, but it worked. Gave me hope and made me feel better. If Tobius was out there somewhere, alive and well, he'd soon find us.

Of that I _was_ certain.

Sam hung his head and turned away, but not before I caught the glint of tears on his face.

Christ. I didn't know what to do. Pretty sure I didn't want to head to Florida, though, and I could easily guess that Sam wouldn't either. Besides, Gordon likely had that move covered.

One thing was for certain. We couldn't stay in Palo Alto. Walker would certainly head out here, if he wasn't en route already.

There was only one place we could be safe. Tobius' cabin.

Gordon had never managed to track us there, and only Lenore knew the place existed. According to Tobius, she'd been sworn to secrecy long ago about its location, even from her mate and second in command.

"Thanks, but we're good." I couldn't bring myself to smile, not even a little, but Lenore didn't appear to take offence.

"As you wish," she whispered softly, and held out a small card. "Here. My personal cell phone number should you need anything." A small sad smile flittered across her face, then was gone in an instant. "Stay safe."

The vamp melted into the shadows without another word.

I glanced down at the Rolex, the black and gold wolf motif winking up at me in the dim light, like a Morse code message I couldn't decipher.

"C'mon Sam," I called out, voice hoarse with unshed tears. "Let's get back to the apartment. We need to pack."

"What?" Sam swung round, eyes glowing furiously. "Where the hell are we supposed to go?"

My answer was short and succinct. "The cabin."

He started shaking his head. "No way. I'm not leaving Jess here. If Gordon shows up..."

"We take her with us," I replied, firmly.

"She won't agree to that, Dean," Sam crossed his arms, jaw set stubbornly. "And neither do I. We both have exams this week and assignments to submit..."

"To hell with all that!" I suddenly yelled, and though the kid hid it well, I'd obviously surprised him. Grabbing him by his shirt front, I pushed my face right into his. "Tobius is dead, and that's all you can think about?" My mind rebelled at even saying the word, and my blood boiled hotter with rage. "You _selfish_ little bastard."

Sam reacted by shoving me away, his own face crimson with anger.

"I'm _doing_ this for Tobius! He wouldn't want me to blow it! Ok? Not for a piece of shit like Gordon!" His nostrils flared in defiance. "I thought that's what _you_ wanted! Not run away and go into hiding!"

Kid struck a nerve there, but I had a responsibility to him, and Jess.

"Your lives are more important than some damn _test!_" Levelling a finger at him, my voice grew deep and uncompromising. "And as for Jess, if she wants to be a part of this pack then she'd better learn to take orders from the alpha." My ears were sliding up, teeth lengthening, all for effect. Like Tobius' own _haki_, I was asserting my dominance. "And until further notice, _that's me!_"

Sam's eyes widened, mouth falling open. He looked about ready to protest my claim, but his mouth snapped shut again, and he nodded slowly.

"I hear ya." Sam agreed quietly.

It was as good of an acceptance as I was going to get under the circumstances.

The realisation that things had changed, that one event had altered everything, must have come as a shock to the kid, 'cos it sure blew me the hell away.

But there was more to come that night.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam and I ran through the campus, keeping a wary eye out for trouble. Streetlights loomed overhead, casting creepy shadows on the sidewalks and tarmac, and in the distance I could hear the laughter of drunken students carrying out late night trick or treat – though mostly trick, judging by some of the screams.

We stayed silent, no longer in the mood for fun, if we ever were to start with.

The night had turned from noisy and tense, to dark and troubled, and my heart pounded painfully, as though counting the seconds until it fell to pieces. Sam's grim face sometimes caught the streetlight, revealing his own torment, and no doubt brooding over my claim to alpha. I didn't think it was _me_ he had a problem with; Sam's always followed me first and foremost, and though we might have our differences, he knows I'll listen to his view point. Sam's problem lay with the circumstances, and I kind of felt the same way. We'd assumed that when I took over as pack alpha, it would happen because Tobius had willingly abdicated and gone into retirement. I mean, yeah, as I said before, after the age of twenty five – quarter century being considered the _prime age_ - werewolves don't get any older, depending on when they were turned.

But they do grow emotionally tired. Eight hundred years is a long time, guys, and it's bound to take its toll. I don't know what Tobius had planned for his life should that time ever come, but I somehow imagined him settling down, maybe writing his memoires, or even building up some kind of training camp for new additions to the pack. But now...

Now I could keep thinking ahead, not allow our grief to bog us down. I wasn't convinced of Sire's demise anyhow, and that bolstered my strength enough to keep Sam and me moving along.

Yeah. Denial always works.

A faint, deep pop and a rumbling noise reached our ears just as the wind suddenly changed direction, and a strong smell of smoke wafted under our nostrils. It clearly wasn't cigarette smoke, and by unspoken agreement, our pace increased until we reached the campus gates. A deep red glow in the sky up ahead had Sam racing down the street, shouting, _screaming_ for his girl.

"Jess!!!!"

_Sam, what the hell dude?_

_It's Jess, I fucking _know_ it!_

_You don't know anything, just calm down._

I mean, it couldn't be.

Right?

It was probably a road traffic collision and some poor bastard's gas tank had gone up.

But as we drew near, the flashing lights and wailing sirens, the crowds gathered, gasping and whimpering in shock, fire crews yelling out orders, cops taking statements...

..._everyone's_ attention was fixed firmly on the flaming remains of our apartment.

Sam didn't hesitate, just kept running straight for the blackened front door, smoke billowing out and blinding him. Tears rolled down his face, as he carried on screaming for Jess, and he would have made it, except I grabbed a hold of the back of his jacket and yanked him away.

Sam rounded on me, furious and desperate.

"_Jess is in there!"_ He roared.

"_It's too dangerous Sam!" _I bellowed right back at him.

"_I don't care...!"_

"_Well I do!"_

The kid just stared passed me at the burning building, eyes filled with tears, body shaking. He was going into shock and I needed to get us away from the place.

We can't burn to death, but we ain't flame retardant either. It hurts like a bastard and the healing process is even worse. If you've ever been scalded or burnt, then you know how painful that is. It's the same for us, just maybe not as slow.

However, the biggest threat to us is the smoke. God only knew the kind of toxins set free by the fire; from furniture, wires, cables, detergents, electrical appliances, you name it, and any free radical silver ions we breathed in would head straight for the heart.

So, big trouble for us.

"Sam? Dean?" A teary voice from behind had us turning to face a red eyed Rebecca and her sooty faced brother, Zack. They both looked as exhausted and heartbroken as we felt.

"Becky," Sam allowed himself to wrapped in the girl's arms, but pulled back at the first opportunity. "What happened? And please... tell me she wasn't in there... tell me... Jess..."

His voice trailed off in misery when Rebecca's sad eyes filled with fresh tears, and she shook her head morosely.

"I'm so sorry, Sam."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam was like an overloaded electricity generator, thrumming with power. I could practically hear the blood pumping through his veins, fuelled by grief and anger.

"It was him, wasn't it?" His nostrils flared again, and Rebecca took a pace back in fear.

_Sammy, calm down, dude. Let's just hear her out._

_It was Gordon, Dean. I can feel it…that bastard _killed_ Jess._

_Ok, ok… just take it easy. You're scaring ya friends._

I grabbed hold of the scruff of his neck, gently shaking him.

_Not a good time to lose it, kiddo. C'mon get a grip._

I felt mean as hell. Poor kid comes home to find our apartment in flames, with the distinct possibility the love of his life, his soul mate, had gone up with it.

Gone forever.

I didn't blame him, _couldn't. _But we needed to focus.

I ducked my head to peer up into his face. Long hair hung down, hiding his eyes, but I gently brushed it aside. His body was calming, even if his mind was still about to blow, and I could feel the cold spreading through him. Shock had well and truly set in, like a snake under a rock. The kid sniffed and nodded, eyes gradually dulling, blanking out Rebecca, Zack, me, and everything else around him.

Keeping my hand on his neck, more to comfort than restrain, I pushed him forward until we reached the Impala, parked further down the road. Thanking God we were unable to park right by the apartment earlier that day, I opened the car's passenger seat and pushed Sam inside. Rebecca and Zack had followed us, wrapped in blankets provided by the ambulance crew, and stopped nearby, gazing at Sam in devastation.

_I'm gonna find out what happened. You just sit tight and don't move, ok?_

_Sure._

I stared at his hunched form, worriedly. Never seen him like this before, never heard his mind so dull and lifeless, and I sure didn't know how to help him.

I guess I was also grieving, but pushed it deep enough to block it out because Sam needed me to be strong for him. Or maybe, I was just overwhelmed.

Leaving the car door open, I turned to Zack and his sister.

"What happened exactly?" I asked quietly.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam was silent and sullen throughout the journey. He didn't argue once about heading for the cabin, merely grunted his ascent, and I got the feeling he no longer gave a damn one way or the other.

A terrible darkness was welling up inside him, and I didn't need our werewolf connection to sense it.

Vengeance.

Sam's blood bayed for revenge, and I couldn't deny the same thing crossed my mind a time or two.

Zack had taken over from Rebecca when my interrogation got too much for the poor girl, but his voice was just as shaky, eyes red with fatigue and sadness.

They'd escorted Jessica to our apartment as Sam requested, even walked her right to the door. Laughing a little, and asking them in for a cup of coffee, Jess had seemed bright and happy, looking forward to seeing Sam again once we found Tobius. Apparently, she hadn't lost faith in that.

Refusing the offer of a late night caffeine hit saved their lives.

Jess stood there watching her friends leave, and waved just before they were out of sight. Seconds later the building erupted in flames. Zack and Rebecca were some way along the sidewalk by that point, but the force of the blast still knocked them down.

I'd spent a few minutes talking to the fire crew, but no one was willing to spill. So I hung around at a distance, hoping to catch snippets of conversation.

Which paid off almost immediately.

One of the crew had muttered quietly to a colleague, and I stood out of sight, listening in. Gotta love werewolf super-hearing, huh?

"_...something attached to the light switch just by the front door. Torn apart by the explosion of course, but it's a telltale sign. Seen it before… "_

He went on to explain, but I ignored that part; that wasn't what I was interested in.

"_Yeah? You sure?"_

"_Definitely some kind of incendiary device. Victim wouldn't have seen it, but once it blew open…"_

"_Shit!"_

"_Yeah. Sure hope we ain't dealing with some kind of terrorist attack, cos the way that thing was set? I'd say we were meant to find it..."_

They went on to describe the state of the victim, or rather, _what was left of her,_ and I couldn't listen any more. I ain't as sensitive as Sammy; I use humour or just plain anger to cope with heartache, but this was too much, even for me.

The news of Tobius was one thing; he'd lived a long time and wouldn't have complained. Probably would've shrugged his shoulders in a _I had a good innings _kinda way_._ But Jess was so damn young, a mere girl, just starting out, in love with a great guy, and her whole life ahead of her.

Sam had taken the news with little reaction. If I didn't know better I would've said he'd fallen asleep, but the grief and shock rolled off him, and he just sat there, head bowed, eyes hidden underneath all that hair.

Any attempts at conversation fell short, and I could understand all right.

'Cause now it was really hitting me low in the gut, like a lead pipe in full swing. With Tobius and Jess gone, where did that leave us? We were effectively running for our lives from a psychotic enemy, and no family left but each other.

Tobius' hotel was a no go area; I had no idea if Gordon was aware that place was one of our bolt holes, but with so many civilian guests, it wasn't worth the risk. Same went for the werebear family. To keep them safe, we would need to stay out of contact. Fortunately, Tobius had taken a call from them before he headed out on his last hunt _- the thought made me want to screw my eyes shut. _

Gerald and Josie had taken Janaya-Maria up to Canada for a few months, to meet the rest of the family. Gerald had asked Tobius to stop by and water his cactus plant if he was ever in the area.

I nearly snorted out loud, but didn't think Sammy would appreciate the sentiment right then. Poor Gerald wasn't good with house plants, and in a last ditched attempt to develop his green fingers – _paws?_ – Josie had bought him a hardy cactus. I suspected the plant had wilted the moment a delighted Gerald had tipped up the watering can, and overfed it. Probably heard of his reputation, and gave up out of sheer despair.

The cabin was more than a few days ride away though, so I took the opportunity to lay a false trail. Easier said than done, but John Winchester had taught me well. I'd kept up the credit card scams all these years but on a smaller scale, just in case our pack split up and I needed the cash and cover.

This was just such a time.

As soon as we pulled into a motel for the night, and checked in under false names, I made use of my cell phone, booking various motel rooms all over the state, in all directions. It wasn't perfect, but I hoped it would keep Gordon and his lieutenant's off our backs until we could disappear into the mountains.

Worst case scenario, we'd change, ditch the car, and go lose ourselves in the wilderness. And that really was the worst case, 'cause ditching the Impala would be one more member of our family lost to us.

"Hey Sam, why don't you take a long hot shower, huh? I'll go get food."

Sam clenched his jaw and nodded, striding across to the bathroom, shoulders tense.

"I'm not hungry," he muttered in monotone, before quietly closing the door.

I wanted to bawl my eyes out, even felt the tear ducts gearing up, getting ready for a real doozey. A few deep breaths, and a belt of whiskey from the mini-bar, the only redeeming feature of our seedy motel room, put pay to that.

Pack alphas don't cry, at least, not in front of its youngsters.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

We lived like that for nearly a month in fact, dragging out the journey as best we could, moving from motel to motel, and sometimes sleeping in the car. The motels were always low key hovels, the exact opposite of what Tobius would have provided.

I told myself it was tactical, keeping danger out of our review mirror, but the real truth was, I was dreading seeing the cabin again. Last time we were there, Tobius was still alive and well...

Sam was barely eating, and in the end, for the sake of his health, I had to issue a direct order. To his credit, he didn't argue but I could see he didn't rate the food any better than I did. Given the state of our lives, food was like ashes in our mouths, and even the night time hunt had lost its shine.

We were no longer living, just existing. Our world consisted of drive, hunt, eat, sleep, then the cycle would start all over again. I tried talking to Sammy, but the kid seemed so lost to me. He shut me out, even his thoughts hidden away, and I tried hard not to take it personally.

As Tobius once told me, I just had to be patient.

As the days shuffled by, I said little, just let him know I was right there beside him. A pat on the back here, a gently squeezed shoulder there, and eventually, _slowly_, a little of the old Sam came back to me.

_Thanks Dean, _he actually smiled at me when I handed him a packet of beef jerky, and my heart thudded loudly as I revved the engine. So he wasn't cart wheeling for joy or anything, but it was the first sign of hope.

My own smile was returning for real when we burned rubber out of the latest gas station.

But, as if waiting for the right moment, my cell phone began belting out Enter Sandman, and 'private number' flashed up on the screen.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Present day…**_

**Dean scratches the back of his head, sighs, and glances over at Sam. The kid's face is tear-streaked, mouth trembling, sandwich lying forgotten on his plate.**

"**Ah shit Sammy, I'm sorry you had to go through all that again."**

"**S'ok." Sam replies, voice husky. He nods stiffly; but his teary gaze meets the camera lens in defiance, and this time his tone matches up. "Had to be said, and we owe it to Jess and Tobius."**

**Dean's got a half smile of admiration growing, before he schools his features and turns back to the camera.**

"**I guess you're wondering why I interrupted the entry at this stage, huh?"**

**Clearing his throat, he continues. "The beginning of the first entry talked of a trap, a running battle, and Sammy got silver shot when we tried to escape." Dean nods to himself, as if sorting it through in his head. "He's still recovering from that wound, 'cos the damn bullet went deep, and fragmented. Fact is, we're finally there. You're about to find out what happened…"**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

It was obviously going to be a trap, just not in the way we expected. I guess hindsight is always twenty-twenty, and we were desperate.

"_Well hullo, Dean."_

I ground my teeth 'til my jaw ached.

"Gordon."

"_Good guess."_ And the bastard actually snorted.

"What the hell do you want?"

"_Need you ask?"_ A low rumble of laughter made my skin crawl. _"Why, you and your brat of course. You sure did good covering your tracks, but your cell phone signal… now that _shoulda _been a dead giveaway. Seems you wolves have more lives than a cat."_

Yeah. I arranged to have the signal re-routed through various cell phone companies. Anyone with my number could reach me, but tracing my whereabouts would've been downright impossible.

"You mean the bomb at Stanford?" I snarled, angrily. "So much for the hunt, huh Gordon? You missed us altogether and killed an innocent girl."

I could almost feel his shrug of indifference at the same time as Sam flinched. I sent him an apologetic glance, before returning to the conversation from hell.

"_Don't matter. The little bitch was banging your son; only a matter of time before she was turned. That don't make her innocent in my eyes, Dean. Either way, my man did his job. Shame we didn't find out 'til later you boys escaped. He'd have gone after you sooner, but you were long gone before that snippet of information was released to the press."_

Sammy and I had watched the news for days after the apartment went up, and the cops sure took their sweet time about releasing information, presumably pending notification of Jessica's family.

Sick I know, but I felt a little smug; that small delay gave us a valuable head start.

"What about Caleb? And Jo Harvelle? Waste of time dude." But I was wondering about that _my man_ comment. Who set the bomb? Who else had Gordo recruited?

"_Means to an end. Got you spooked, and made the game more interesting. But when Tobius took off to Florida, that's when the opportunity arose."_

I nodded grimly. "Yeah, someone helped you escape, and you knew Tobius would be on your ass…"

"_It was a hell of a lot easier than that, Dean."_ He interrupted smoothly. _"He didn't know what hit him."_

I was tempted to hang up, but Sam was watching me, eyes pinched in worry.

"You bastard!" I growled softly.

"_Now, now. No need for name calling." _What he said next had me bolting upright in my seat. _"Not if you wanna see ya daddy again."_

The shocked silence obviously dragged on too long, 'cause when the guy spoke next he sounded pissed.

"_Hey! You hear me?"_

"Uh..." I swallowed hard before answering. "Yeah, I hear ya. How do I know you're telling the truth? Lenore…"

"_Lenore don't know squat. All she saw was Tobius' Rolex."_ I sensed the smug grin from his tone. _"Nice time piece by the way. I was tempted to keep it, but I didn't want no filthy mutt's cast offs."_

I was itching with a snarky come back, but if Gordon was telling the truth, then Tobius' life depended on our cooperation. Which, unfortunately, meant making nice with the sick sonofabitch.

My blood boiled at the thought.

_Dean? _Sam could hear both ends of the conversation, and he clearly wasn't any happier than I was. _Ask him to put Tobius on the line._

I understood where the kid was coming from. Proof of life. Somehow I got the feeling that wasn't the kinda game ol' Gordo was playing. But it was worth a try.

"Let me speak to him."

"_No can do, Dean. Daddy's in no shape to be talking. You're just gonna have to trust me on this one."_

"Yeah, right!"

"_Choice is yours."_ That deep laughter again echoed down the line. _"But just remember the things I can do with silver Dean, what I did to little Sammy before his first change…"_

Yeah. Sam got so sick he couldn't even communicate with our thoughts.

We had no choice. If Tobius was still alive, like I'd hoped all along…

"What do you want?" I repeated my question from earlier, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"_The ultimate hunt." _Gordon hissed. _"Grab a pen and note paper. Coordinates..."_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's Notes:**_

_**Our poor boys have really been through the mangle eh? And now they're faced with a dilemma. Can Gordon's word be trusted?**_

_**Is Tobius dead or alive?**_

_**Personally, I don't think they have a choice in this. They have to find out one way or another.**_

_**Cheers my darlings. As you might have guessed, there's big trouble ahead, and, as Dean explained in the second part of his journal entry, we're pretty much closing in on present day, which means there aren't many chapters left to this fic. Enjoy!**_

_**Kind regards,**_

_**ST xxx**_


	26. Chapter 26

**Hunter Of The Shadows**

**Chapter 26**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"**Now this is where the trap came into play, 'cause when we arrived at Gordon's coordinates, we realised it wasn't just him we were up against." Dean's obviously in tactical mode, like that moment after taking an exam when all a person can think about is a post-mortem of their answer sheet. "We were instructed to change the minute we arrived. We had three hours to find Tobius, and get out. Those were the terms. We knew that, even if we succeeded, Gordon would hunt us the rest of our lives. We were discussing the best way to put an end to it all, and that's when we caught the scent of humans."**

**The boys are settled in the living room in front of the fire. Dean's leaning forward and placing a heavy log on the hearth, while Sam sips at a steaming mug, hands a little shaky.**

"**Turned out, we knew most of those guys…"**

"**I don't understand why he didn't turn them, like he did with Caleb and Jo," Sam inquires softly.**

**Dean just shrugs.**

"**I guess it made the hunt more interesting." He considers that, nodding slowly as if it was beginning to make sense. "Two werewolves up against several patrols of vamps we couldn't smell? Yeah. He didn't wanna make it **_**too**_** easy. Whatever else he is, Gordon likes a challenge."**

**Sam also nods, and stares into his mug.**

"**I think by that point Gordon lost sight of what he was doing it for." The kid glances up to gage Dean's reaction to that. "He didn't forget, but John's death fell by the way side a little."**

"**He was a loon." Dean's eyebrows twitch as he dips his chin in agreement. "But he sure had the others wound up about it…"**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Around the second hour into the hunt, Sam took the silver round meant for me.

We'd been on the trail for Tobius, and I hated to think how much blood Sire must have lost.

Because that's what Gordon used.

No teddy bears rolled in crap, no bundles of clothes left strewn around, just Sire's blood. Back and forth, round in circles, trying to stay on the scent, but at the same time avoiding the patrols, we were lead around like dogs on a leash. Or to put it another way, we chased the proverbial carrot on a stick.

Sam lasted as long as he could, but finally went down hard, panting and whimpering in pain.

We were surrounded, cut off from the Impala, and completely at the mercy of our predators. They were closing in on us from all sides, Sam was bleeding badly from the haunch, and I estimated we had only a half hour at most before they caught us.

But I was damned if we were giving up without a fight. The enemy was armed with silver bullets, silver blades, silver spears; you name it, to make even the bravest, even craziest non-lunar back off. Probably wore silver codpieces in case I got close enough to take a chunk outta them.

Huh, not likely. Getting close was going to be a problem, especially with Sam badly wounded.

_Sammy, just a little further dude. I know it hurts._

_Can't f-feel my rear l-legs Dean. I-I'm s-sorry._

_Hey! No giving up, ok? We ain't dead yet._

Though it was surely only a matter of time.

I sniffed the air. Now we were closer, two of the humans smelled particularly familiar, and I recognised our only chance.

Like I said before, Sam's a huge wolf, and damned heavy with it. But as his sire, Sam's weight was no real problem for me. I performed a fast, painful change, then crouched down in front of him.

_Get ready, Sammy. We walking outta here._

_Dean?_ Sad, tired blue-greens glowed deeply in the darkness.

_S'ok, buddy._

I scooped the injured wolf into my arms, and with a small grunt of exertion, pushed upwards. Sam whined softly, muzzle draped over my shoulder, glowing eyes watching our backs, his long spiky ears twitching.

_Wha… we g-gonna do?_

I smiled grimly in the darkness.

_Appeal to their humanity._

And so we set off to face a kangaroo court, run by a crazed vampire, in order to beg for our lives. That should've made me laugh, but somehow it didn't seem funny. There was little chance of us surviving, but we had to try.

After all, we had nothing to lose, and if we failed at least we went down together.

Maybe we'd even get to see Tobius one last time.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

I purposely headed towards the patrol coming from the north. Sam was getting weaker, head sliding off my shoulder until his neck twisted awkwardly, muzzle hanging over the crook of my arm.

_Sam, stay awake now. Gonna need those puppy dog eyes of yours._

_Uhuh. M'here._

_Attaboy._

I could hear the patrol by now, a few hundred yards ahead of us. Taking a nervous breath, trying hard not to remember I was butt naked and about to flash a group of humans, I stepped forward.

Time to find out if I was right.

"Bobby! Pastor Jim! It's me, Dean. Don't shoot! I'm coming out!"

All movement ahead halted, and I heard a few muffled whispers.

"_Well I'll be da…" _That had to be Bobby Singer.

"_You may well be," _Pastor Jim interrupted. _"If you finish that cursing, Singer."_

"_Sorry."_

"_Guess we better talk to it."_

That made me wince, Pastor Jim referring to me as 'it'. That cut deep, but also took a pot-shot at any hope I'd been harbouring that these old friends might help us. After Caleb, perhaps I should've known better.

Guess I had my work cut out for me.

"Ok!" Bobby called out. "Come out with your hands up."

"Uh, that could be problem." I stepped out anyway, and fixed Bobby with my own puppy eyes. Sure, they ain't as effective as Sam's, but they've been known to work. "Please, help us. Sam's hurt bad." I took another tentative step, but stopped when Pastor Jim raised his shotgun.

"That's far enough." The Pastor glared at us, and I wanted to shrink away. "How can you even think about asking us for help, after what you... _abominations_ did to John?"

"Gordon told us what you did to Caleb and Jo Harvelle." Bobby watched me with narrowed eyes, but I got the feeling he was less certain than the erstwhile cleric. "Girl's mother's out here tonight. She sure wants your heads on a platter."

I couldn't help the smirk.

"Yeah. A silver one, right?" Shaking my head slightly, and wishing I could cut out my own tongue, I moved swiftly onwards. "Look, guys, don't believe everything Gordon told you."

There must have been something in my voice, because Pastor Jim's body language altered subtly. Now he seemed interested in what I had to say.

"Go on," Bobby was still aiming his sawn-off at me, but I could see the uncertain glint in his eyes.

"Caleb and Jo were vampires. Gordon sent them after us."

"Oh please…" Pastor Jim snorted in disbelief.

"I'm telling the truth, ok?" I shifted slightly.

When Sam whined again, I noticed the look on Bobby's face. The guy had a soft spot for dogs, always kept a canine at Singer Salvage; claimed mutts were better people than humans. I was counting on that tonight. "We ain't like the other werewolves you've come across before. We're more like you. Hunters. Tobius taught us to hunt strays that pray on humans. To protect the human race from our own kind; we're not mindless murderers, or brutal, vicious killers. We make our own choices in wolf form."

_Ok Sammy, if ya can hear me, lay it on thick._

The kid's answer was a soft, heartbreaking howl of pain, dying off into a pathetic whimper.

I saw Bobby's face soften and took a step closer.

"Please…"

Pastor Jim lowered his weapon slightly.

"That's really Sam?" He sounded amazed.

"Yeah. You can touch him and he won't hurt you, I swear." I felt my heart jump a little when Bobby moved closer and reached out a hand. "Sammy? It's Uncle Bobby, kiddo. Time to wake up."

His fingers, ever so gently, ran through the soft, thick fur behind Sam's ears, and the kid opened his eyes.

This was it. This was how he convinced Jess, so maybe, just may be…

Sam's eyes widened on seeing Bobby for the first time in years, then leaned into the older hunter's touch, making small grunting noises of contentment. His long tongue snaked out, licking a gentle path up the older hunter's hand.

"He remembers you," I offered hopefully.

Bobby smiled.

"Yeah, I can see him now. He's Sammy Winchester all right."

"So," Pastor Jim had completely lowered the shotgun, and shuffled towards us, still a little wary. "You guys actually _turn into wolves?_ Not some hirsute, crazed, half-human looking beast with fangs?"

"That's about it," I replied, then frowned a little when I felt Sam's body shudder. It was a miracle the kid had held off all this time, but the silver bullet was pushing real hard to force a change.

_Try to hold on, Sam._

_Yeah…'kay…_

"Why did you kill John?" Bobby's question took me by surprise.

I wasn't about to explain that it wasn't me, just kept my answer simple.

"Whilst I was gone, he hurt Sam, badly. Beat, starved and tormented the poor kid on a daily basis. By the time I found Sam again, most of his bones had been broken at some stage or other. When John showed up, he tried to kill me, but Sam pushed me out of the way and took the bullet to his chest." I shrugged as if that was all the explanation they needed. "Sam was dying, so I turned him to save his life."

I could see they had more questions, but suddenly we were out of time. The scent of the other patrols grew stronger; they were almost upon us.

"One more thing, guys." I had to make them believe me, though I wasn't sure how. "You do know Gordon Walker's a vampire, right? He turned Jo and Caleb."

"What?!" Pastor Jim was almost physically taken aback.

Bobby didn't say a word but his back stiffened, and his face twisted in an angry grimace.

I was pretty sure asking Gordon to politely bare his teeth in proof wasn't going to work.

And, surprisingly, I was wrong.

He appeared right behind Pastor Jim, grabbed the cleric by the shoulders, and threw him as effortlessly as a baseball. The priest landed in an awkward heap about thirty feet away.

"_Sonofabitch!_" Bobby's eyes widened comically when Gordon graced him with a fully fanged vamp grin.

Gordon laughed a deep throaty laugh, and as if that were the signal, the other patrols stepped out of the shadows.

The woman had to be Ellen Harvelle, Jo's mother. She had the same eyes and mouth, not to mention I could feel the pure hatred as her eyes lit on me, and she hoisted her crossbow higher. I caught the scent of sweat, feminine and sweet. Human.

A few others stood out; the likes of Steve Wondell, Rufus Turner, some guy I met once in my life and only knew him as Travis, and Daniel Elkins, all old friends to John Winchester. The rest I didn't recognise.

Apart from the one that suddenly appeared beside Ellen.

Joshua. He carried no weapon, and didn't need to. I was pretty sure he was a vampire 'cos he also carried no scent, and if I had to guess, this was the guy responsible for Jessica's death.

"Dean, so glad you could make it." Gordon grinned widely.

It seemed the kangaroo court was in process.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

To be honest, I totally thought we'd get both barrels there and then, so I tried to stall.

"Where's Tobius?"

That smug, toothy grin was beginning to get on my nipples.

"Why, Dean," Gordon countered, leaning casually against a lone tree. "Thought you knew better than that. He's dead." He leaned in a little, studying my face. "You didn't really think he was still alive, did ya?"

I felt the blood drain from my face.

"You bastard!" I spat viciously. "I don't believe you!"

"If the Rolex wasn't proof enough," Gordon held something out. It was Tobius' cell phone. I'd recognise it anywhere. The wall paper was a picture of Sam and me in wolf form, just after Sam's first change. He was still a small pup in that photo, and I was sitting proudly, my muzzle resting protectively over his dipped head. Beautiful blue-green eyes gazed shyly up at the camera phone. It was one of Tobius' favourites, an image of his son and grandson together.

_No… _It felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me, like this made it all final.

But I still refused to believe it, still denied it.

I don't know what Gordon had in mind next, but the choice was taken away from him when Pastor Jim suddenly leapt up, jammed the barrel of his shotgun into Gordon's back and squeezed the trigger.

Gordon's body arched a nanosecond after the loud boom, and he hissed in pain, dropping to the ground.

"Th-that… w-won't…" he gasped angrily, and choked the words out. "k-kill me!"

"No," Jim loaded another shell. "But it'll hurt like hell."

"Stay right where you are." Bobby's weapon swung upwards and aimed at the patrols when they made a move. "You guys _are_ human, and this _will _kill you. Dean, get the kid out of here, and take my advice." His eyes briefly met mine. "Don't come back. Find a place to hole up, and stay there. We'll try to send word later."

There was something strange going on here, but for the life of me I couldn't figure it out. Bobby and Pastor Jim were condemning themselves to death.

And all for us.

"You can't take these guys on alone," I began, but I was in for yet _another _surprise.

"They're not alone." Lenore, complete with an entourage of around ten other vamps materialised from nowhere, fangs glinting evilly.

Bobby nodded, as though expecting this.

"Go on boy! Git! This ain't your fight."

I wasn't going to argue, though my mind was reeling. When the hell did this all get decided? But it certainly explained why Bobby and Pastor Jim believed in me so readily.

"Guys... uh… thanks," I called back and broke into a run, heading away quickly before anyone could change their minds. "I won't forget this."

My last sight of them, human against human, vampire against vampire, ready for the last stand, would haunt me for many years.

As much as I wanted to stay behind and fight, Sam needed help, and that bullet was coming out as soon as we got to safety.

I eventually closed my ears to the loud battle cries, the following sounds of clashing metal, ripping flesh, harsh growls of pain, and pushed onwards.

By the time we reached the car, Sam was howling and crying in agony, the change attacking him without mercy.

It was too late for wolfs bane. With something akin to an epileptic fit, Sam changed back to human form. Struggling to hold on to him, as his legs twisted in on themselves at the hips, I winced in sympathy. Bet he was _really _feeling that bullet right then.

Nose retracting, ears shifting; back arching, muscles rigid, teeth clenched to breaking point… Sam screamed out in pain.

And carried on screaming, until the change was over and he slumped, limp and unconscious in my arms. The change occurring with silver in his body would make his recovery a slow and painful process, and the kid needed somewhere safe to rest.

Why so painful? You may well ask.

Think about it.

There's a reason fast healing is built into our bodies. For a werewolf to shift form, a huge number of stresses are involved. Muscles have to stretch and strain, bones have to break and re-knit in order to accommodate the change, and if it happens with silver present in the body, all our natural healing processes drop to a dangerously slow rate, effectively inhibited by the poisonous metal.

We couldn't hang around much longer, so I wrapped the kid up in plenty of blankets, and laid him on the back seat. His body was breaking out in a cold sweat and shivering violently, so I made use of a stash of the chelating agent we kept in the glove compartment for just such emergencies.

Dressing hurriedly, and sliding behind the wheel, I turned the key, praying like hell nothing would go wrong. Half expecting the car to have been vandalised in our absence, I held my breath, but the engine turned over first time.

First safe chance, we stopped, and I spent the rest of that night pulling fragments of silver from Sam's hip.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

It was after the second motel that I came up with the idea of keeping a video journal. We'd lost so much in so short a space of time, and it just seemed right to keep a record.

And it helped, ya know? Deep down?

Sam was sick for days, didn't seem to be getting any better, and I had no one else to talk to, to share my fears with. The chelating agent was obviously protecting Sam's heart, but why was he still sick?

I eventually came to the horrible conclusion that I hadn't succeeded in removing all the silver, and so began another lengthy round of field surgery, mind racked with guilt.

It was buried real deep and took hours to find, but eventually it came free. Soon after that Sam started making progress, and it was time to disappear. It wasn't a comfortable journey for the poor kid, but he didn't complain once. A few more over night stops to let him rest properly, a few more journal entries, and Sam began to perk up. He still couldn't walk, the bruising too painful, but he was eating, even smiling occasionally.

We'd both changed a lot, though, and I doubted we'd ever be the same again. Sam was quieter, needed a little nudging to open up, and I sometimes found him just staring mournfully into space. I guess Jessica was never far from his thoughts, because most nights he cried out for her in his sleep, his voice breaking with grief.

Had no idea how to help my boy, and desperately wanted to take away his pain. But this was something the kid had to work through by himself, and all I could do was stay by his side, and pick up the pieces every time he fell apart.

It didn't seem enough.

As for me? I joked, teased, and generally tried to keep things as normal as possible. No easy task. Not even sure I succeeded, but Sam sure seemed to appreciate the effort.

We both underwent our changes, but with Sam still incapacitated, hunting was out. And I couldn't bring myself to leave him for long. Food came from the nearby diner or grocery store, depending on what was closest at the time, but it wasn't the same. The meat was often cheap and processed, and the milk was that watery, skimmed crap, calorie-obsessed bastards pretend to love.

So as our final destination loomed on the horizon, in the form of snowy mountain ranges so familiar it physically hurt, I ordered fresh meat from a specialist butcher, enough to see us through until Sam could be judged well enough to hunt.

Our journey ended at Tobius' cabin, our family home.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Present day…**_

"**That was a week ago, though it sure feels like longer than that." Dean sounds a little sleepy by now, and stifles a yawn.**

"**Yeah," Sam huffs out. "More like a life time. Can't believe so much has happened…" he shakes his head, eyes darkening with sadness.**

**The boys fall silent for a while, the fire spitting gently, and the camera whirring away to itself.**

"**D'ya think we'll ever find out what happened back there?" Sam asks suddenly, not taking his eyes off the dancing flames. "I mean, there was obviously some kind of battle, right? But who won?"**

"**I don't know, Sammy." Dean reaches out and rubs the back of Sam's neck, comfortingly. "Too soon to tell, anyhow. They probably underwent one hell of a cleanup campaign afterward." **

**Picking up the camera he squints into the lens. "I guess you guys are all up to date. And likely as confused as we are right now."**

**Sam chuckles quietly and Dean's about to switch off the camera when they both suddenly freeze. Nostrils flaring, they glance at each other, in that **_**special way**_**.**

**Sam hobbles slowly to his feet and Dean advances cautiously across the wooden floor.**

"**Sammy, I think…" he begins, nervously.**

**Someone knocks, no, **_**pounds**_** on the front door.**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

**_Author's notes:_**

**_So, is it who you think it is? Or was Gordon telling the truth?_**

**_I think you all know the answer to that!_**

**_So there we have a lovely helping of Limp Sam, with a nice side order of Depressed Sam. Poor Dean really does look after him so well, eh?_**

**_And I just had to bring Bobby and Pastor Jim into the fic as the good guys. Such great characters. Pity we never really got to know more about the Pastor on the show._**

**_Lenore and her nest was a bit of a surprise, eh?_**

**_Cheers my darlings._**

**_Kind regards,_**

**_ST xxx_**


	27. Chapter 27

**Hunter of The Shadows**

**Chapter 27**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

**The camera is still rolling, if such a term can be applied to digital technology. That's a quandary Sam might ponder over, but Dean doesn't give a damn.**

'**Cause right now, Dean's staring at the door, face pale and shoulders tense. **

**Sam doesn't look much better, swaying on his feet, and pain lines bracketing his mouth since his injured leg bore the brunt of clambering off the couch.**

**The youngster's eyes swivel between the door and Dean, trying to gage Dean's reaction. He obviously wants to _open_ the door, but is held back by Dean's hesitation. Sam won't budge, however, not until his **_**fatherbrother**_** gives the word. Sam takes his lead from the older werewolf, because until that door opens, until the identity of the visitor is confirmed, Dean is still alpha.**

**Dean suddenly cocks his head, as though listening, and Sam copies, wide eyes filled with fear.**

**But it soon becomes apparent their fear isn't the kind that has the boys reaching for a shotgun.**

**It's fear of hope.**

**Hope long since buried when Dean carried an injured Sam off the battle field, before the fighting began.**

**Without another backwards glance, as though driven by a silent command, Dean strides to the door and yanks it open.**

"**I knew it!" he exclaims, softly, voice almost a whisper. "I knew you weren't dead. I could **_**feel**_** it!"**

**The visitor gives a small bow before replying.**

"**Good to know you've been listening to your instincts, my son."**

**Tobius grins widely, like a cat that's just realised it has opposable thumbs, and that the unopened carton of cream sitting on the kitchen work top doesn't seem quite so daunting after all.**

**It's a **_**Tobius**_** grin.**

**A smug grin.**

**A **_**wolfish **_**grin.**

**It obviously tells Dean and Sam everything they need to know. **

**In a standoff, they regard each other with a whole spectrum of emotions flooding their expressions.**

_**Love...**_

_**Fear...**_

_**Adoration...**_

**In what appears as a blur to the digital audience, clothes are suddenly flying, and boots fall to the floor with a thump. **

**Three handsome wolves, one black, one red, and one black and tan, begin rough housing on the carpet. Soft growls and happy barks fill the room as the family, and indeed it **_**is**_** a family in every possible way, is reunited at last.**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

**The camera wobbles, gives an interesting shot of the ceiling, then the carpet, and finally, before the audience yawns and wanders off in search of popcorn, Dean's grinning face appears.**

**And he really **_**is**_** grinning, more than ever. His beautiful green eyes are glowing with happiness and health, and one gets a sense of contentment just from observing him. However, Dean being **_**Dean,**_** there's more than a hint of mischief to the air.**

**When he speaks, it's a cautious whisper.**

"**Watch this…"**

**He picks up the camera, and the room comes into view. Curled up by the fireplace, the black and tan wolf is sleeping, occasionally snuffling and twitching.**

**Perhaps someone should have told Dean that poking a wolf with a sharp stick - especially a very **_**large**_** wolf - isn't the wisest move. **

**But that's what the idiot tries to do.**

**As soon as the stick appears, before it even gets within three feet of Dean's victim, the wolf's awake.**

_**Wide**_ **awake.**

**The wolf pounces with a snarl, and the lens is suddenly plunged into the darkness of black fur.**

**Then, as if by magic, the room reappears. **

**The camera makes some interesting movements and the watcher gets the sensation of flying, until the device lands with a clatter on the floor by the sofa. The camera is on its side, but gives a clear view of what's happening to our erstwhile young prankster, and it's a recording that Sam will no doubt take great pleasure in watching.**

**Time and time again.**

**Dean is on his stomach, pinned down by the great wolf, face mashed into the shag pile.**

"**Arrgghhh!" Dean groans out. "Get off me you damn great hairy…"**

**The wolf lowers his muzzle to the stricken hunter's ear, and growls deeply.**

"**Ok… ok… truce." Dean's hands are splayed out in submission. Whatever the big wolf threatened him with, it clearly isn't pleasant, because Dean is virtually grovelling; something the watcher rarely gets to see.**

**The wolf and Dean glance up at the sound of claws clicking on tiles. The red wolf limps round the kitchen door, and Dean's jaw drops in dismay.**

"**Sammy, no!" he shakes his head frantically and fruitlessly attempts to heave the black and tan wolf off his back. The red wolf, meanwhile, trots closer, tongue out, saliva pooling against his fangs. "Sammy, don't you dare! Judas! Don't you fu…"**

**The red wolf lowers his head, jaws open, and ever so slowly, with a satisfyingly wet slurping noise, swipes his tongue up Dean's face.**

"_**EEEEWWWWWWW!**_**"**

**The black and tan wolf howls with mirth, and joins in the fun.**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

**Dean's back in front of the camera, wiping his face down with a towel.**

"**You'd think three hot showers would be enough," he mutters to himself, clearly still disgusted. "Don't think I'll ever get the drool out of my hair. Damn near drowned in the stuff!"**

**With a final huff, he ditches the towel. The glare is scorching, silently warning the audience to keep their opinions to themselves. However, in spite of the heat, its obvious Dean isn't really that angry.**

"**So," he studies the lens with his head tilted to one side. "I guess you guys wanna know what happened…"**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

I couldn't believe he was here, after all this time.

I know that, in the years to come, I'll replay that moment from time to time, taking full advantage of the camera. But the footage in my head, _that's_ the _real_ McCoy.

It felt like slow motion.

Stepping forward, grasping the door handle, waiting to see if we were right, or if this was some cruel joke of Gordon's.

I wouldn't have put it passed the bastard to drag Sire's body all the way up here, just to trick or taunt us…

_Dean. Open the door. It really is me._

And it really was.

Tobius appeared exhausted, but apart from a few fading scars on his face and neck, he seemed unharmed.

I don't know who initiated it, but in seconds we lost our clothing and changed.

Rolling around on the floor, paws scrabbling on the carpet, gentle bites and snuffling each other's ears, each touch and movement all part of the game. But it's also our way of checking the alpha for serious injury.

_Are you ok? Are you hurt?_

_I'm fine Dean, a little banged up, but I'll live._

_God, I thought…_

_Shush, young Sam. Don't upset yourself… you've also been injured, pup..._

_I'm getting better, especially with you here... now... finally..._

I sensed no holding back, other than the fatigue Sire clearly felt, and no sign of pain. His change had been as swift and smooth as ours, putting much of my fears to rest.

Sounds weird, I know. Tobius is older, wiser, and more experienced than me, but I'm his beta and bodyguard. It's my job to worry about pack members' safety.

The greeting came to an end when Tobius groaned and rolled over, furry legs stretching upwards. Another roll and he was sitting back, one rear paw extending upwards to scratch an ear.

Sam whined softly, bent his head and licked at Sire's snout.

_Where were you all this time? We thought you were dead. And…Oh God, Tobius, Jess… she's…_

Poor kid still couldn't bring himself to say it.

The ancient wolf regarded his grandson, sadly.

_I know about Jess. And I'm so sorry, pup. She should never have been caught in the cross-fire. But with the likes of Gordon Walker, I'm afraid it was inevitable._

That hurt. Big time.

But Sam... _he _just...

Sam let out a heartbreaking whine that became a howl, echoing mournfully round the cabin. Head raised, eyes narrowed to slits and shining with tears, my boy broke so suddenly, so painfully, right in front of us.

Tobius crept forward, and rested his muzzle under Sam's in support. There was little else we could do for him.

I knew what this was. Tobius had told me of it some time ago.

Sam's cry was known as The Lost.

It spoke of loneliness, misery and heartache. It was the howl of a wolf that had lost his mate, and Tobius had sung it the day he learned of his Lady Anna's death, over four hundred years ago.

The Lost is anything but a pleasure to hear; it pulls at your heart strings, and twists your gut in grief. And it's not something I ever wanted to hear again, especially coming from my son.

Sam was tired and spent when he finished, and slumped down, paws sliding along the carpet until he came to rest on his belly.

_I'm sorry, Jess... so damn sorry… I shoulda been there… I knew something was coming… felt... _saw_ the danger you were in, and did nothing to stop it..._

I padded forward and dropped into a crouch, gently nibbling at one of his ears. Gradually curling round him, as if I could shield him from the worst of his pain, I settled down and waited it out.

This breakdown had been a long time coming, and Sam needed it. I guess with everything that was going on, constantly on the move, fear that we'd lost Tobius, the bullet wound, and the ever present threat of Walker, Sam hadn't gotten this far along in his grief.

He still had a long way to go, but The Lost was a good sign the kid was on the right path.

We had to be content with that.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The three of us lounged by the fire in wolf form for hours. Sam had fallen into a fitful sleep, his head resting over my front left shoulder. Every so often, he stirred and whined pitifully, but he soon calmed when I gently snuffled against his ears.

_Poor kid._

Tobius opened one eye.

_He's been through a lot, certainly. But he's tough, durable. But what troubles me the most…_ he paused, as if not sure I wanted to hear what he had to say.

_Go on._ I raised my head, encouraging him to talk faster.

_Sam said he felt the danger, that he saw it coming._

_And?_

_He'll want revenge._

_Can't say I blame him, _I replied with a soft snort.

_Dean,_ green eyes flared in the firelight. _Don't be hasty. There's more going on here than you realise._

That got my attention.

_What do you mean?_

Tobius sighed, got slowly to his paws, and changed. Grabbing his clothes and pulling them on, he jerked his chin in the direction of the kitchen.

"We'll talk as we eat. I'm starving." Casting a sad, kind smile at our sleeping Sammy, Sire reached down and smoothed a hand over the young wolf's fur. "I'll make enough for when he wakes up, but for now, let him rest."

It was on the tip of my tongue to point out that Tobius also needed rest, but when the guy makes up his mind about something, there's no stopping him.

By the time I joined him, fully dressed, he was heating up the heavy cast iron skillet, and pulling thick juicy steaks from the cooler.

"Lenore and her nest rescued me from Gordon," he began without any preamble. "I'm not quite sure how or what the exact order of events were, but once she understood what was going on, that Gordon was recruiting hunters and sending them after us, she contacted Bobby Singer and Pastor Jim Murphy before it was too late, presuming they were next on Gordon's list." He snorted softly. "She got lucky there, that's for sure."

Hunters being hunters, they were distrustful of a vamp, even a passive one. But Lenore's argument must have been pretty compelling, because they agreed to go along with the subterfuge.

When Gordon escaped, Tobius went after him and it ended in a vicious and bloody skirmish, werewolf versus vampire. But it wasn't a fair fight. Gordon had help in the form of Ellen Harvelle and her beloved cross bow; the very one she had trained on Sammy and me not so long ago. Steve Wondell and Travis had gone along for the ride, also heavily armed with silver. It was assumed these guys staged Walker's escape.

It seemed the game plan had changed, because Gordon came up with the genius idea of capturing Tobius and using him as bait to lure us out, rather than the other way round. Guess the whole set up at Stanford intimidated the bastard; after all, he lost two of his lieutenants to us.

It nearly worked, except Lenore caught up with him and broke Sire out of his prison, killing anyone who stood guard. With no one to warn Gordon that Tobius was once again on the rampage, Walker felt free to pursue Tobius' pack.

Us.

Tobius and Lenore set their own little plan in motion. Word was sent out that Tobius Le Salle, pack alpha, died during an escape attempt. Unfortunately - and although I can see the sense I'm still not happy about it - it meant Lenore had to outright lie to Sam and me. They couldn't risk anyone else knowing the truth, and with the remaining pack believing their alpha was dead, the lie was that much more convincing.

And seeing the Rolex had me convinced for all of five hours.

Little did we know, Tobius was right with us, following, protecting and tracking our every move, often only a mile or two behind, and successfully covering his scent. It certainly explained why no one attacked us whilst we were on the run. I _had_ found it difficult to believe we'd gotten off so lightly, in spite of the elaborate false trails I left all over the country.

And it also explained why I wasn't convinced of his death.

But what really sucked?

Yeah, Tobius was protecting us from a distance, but he was also using us as bait to bring Gordon and his little army into a full on bitch fight. Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled by that bit of news. He put us at risk, _Sam_ at risk.

But though I tried, I honestly couldn't think of a better plan.

Of course, I felt a little better when Sire explained that we were never alone the night of the kangaroo court. Bobby and Jim, finally convinced we were indeed the good guys, fully picked a side.

The right side.

When Lenore stepped out of the shadows, and stood beside Bobby and Pastor Jim, they were ready for a fight to the death.

Tobius had stayed as far away as he could, without alerting us with his scent. He waited for Bobby and Jim to send Sam and me on our way, knowing full well if we'd laid eyes on him, we would have stayed. Once we were gone, _then_ he came out, and faced down Walker's army.

The battle was epic by all accounts, but then I already got the picture from the soundtrack as we were leaving that night.

Ellen went down first, followed by two of Lenore's nest. Wondell bought it a short while later after facing the business end of Bobby's shotgun. Joshua was taken out by the head Vamp herself, but Gordon… Tobius took care of him.

It was at this point that Sire paused, looking troubled.

"Tobius? You ok, man?"

He nodded stiffly, and added a hefty dose of garlic butter to the skillet.

"I'm fine, but…" his heavy sigh did little to easy my growing anxiety.

"You did kill Walker, right?"

Glowing green eyes fixed on mine.

"Oh I killed _him _all right," Tobius answered softly, ominously. "But not the thing that came out of his mouth."

I felt my jaw drop.

"He was possessed? By a _demon?_"

_Wow!_

Now, _that_ wasn't expected.

Sire nodded again.

"I think that's what they call a double whammy, first becoming a vamp, then used as a vessel for hell spawn."

I shook my head blinking in amazement.

"How long?"

"No idea." Tobius reached for a set of tongs and flipped the steaks over. "He wasn't exactly talkative. Just grinned at me rather unbecomingly, and announced that we would pay for ruining his plans." Sire glanced up at me. "We would _all_ pay, but especially Sam."

I stared at Sire, dread rising slowly in my gut.

"What? What plans? Why Sam?" My voice was rising right along with the dread when he didn't answer right away. "What's this all about?"

Tobius set down the tongs.

"The demon possessing Walker was no ordinary low level demon," Sire explained in a low voice. "His eyes turned yellow, not black."

That wasn't all he had to say.

"Dean, he murdered Mary Winchester."

And he said it with such conviction; I just knew he wasn't telling me everything. The look in his eyes told me there was a whole lot more information coming my way. And none of it pretty.

"What's this got to do with me?" Sam stalked into the kitchen, fists clenched by his sides. The kid watched us with barely concealed anger, body tense and vibrating with energy.

_Shit!_

Yeah, the kid heard everything.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's Notes:**_

_**So there you have it. We're pretty much up to present day. You know what happened to Tobius, and what happened on the battle field. Another good opportunity for a missing scene, perhaps. Hint, hint!**_

_**Poor Sam. How much more is he going to be able to take? Can Dean protect him from the worst of Tobius' information? Or will the fallout become too much? Not sure how long I would have lasted in his shoes.**_

_**Lady Anna: please refer back to chapter 16, but essentially she was Tobius' mate and partner. She was forced into marriage with another man, then killed in a so called 'accident' shortly after giving birth to Tobius' daughter, who was later put to death for being a werewolf. Nice.**_

_**Final chapter up next. Yep, the end of Book 1 is nigh and what a ride it's been!**_

_**Cheers for all your support, my darlings.**_

_**Kind regards,**_

_**ST xxx**_


	28. Chapter 28

**Hunter of The Shadows**

**Chapter 28**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**The final chapter to Book 1.**_

_**Continued from the previous chapter...**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

When Sam was fully seated, by virtue of his grandfather gently pushing him down in to a chair, Tobius watched us both very closely, a strange, sad smile on his face.

"What makes you so sure? Dad pursued that bastard all our lives and he never got even _close_. And, in any case, why show his face now?" I asked quietly, and I felt Sam flinch beside me. Shooting the kid an apologetic look, I realised what I'd said. I hadn't referred to the guy as _dad_ in years. Part of me wondered if Tobius had noticed, and what he thought about my slip up. But a glance at Sire revealed he had bigger concerns.

Tobius chewed on his lower lip for moment.

"I don't think he originally planned to show up when he did," he whispered, mysteriously. "I believe he was forced to when Sam wasn't showing the same special talents as all the others."

"Others?" Sam piped up, sharply. "What others?"

"That's what I'd like to know," I grumbled, getting fed up with all the cryptics. "Tobius, what the hell's going on?"

Sire laid both hands, palm down, on the table, head bowed as though held down by a heavy weight.

"I suppose I should start at the beginning," he raised his head and took a deep breath.

I felt the fine hairs on my arms and the back of my neck start to quiver and rise up. Adrenaline began the sharp, steady thump, my heart thudding painfully.

The big reveal.

Sire was about to knock our socks off, I could feel it.

"The reason I'm so sure," Tobius continued, "is because I knew your mother, before she met John."

Out the corner of my eye I saw Sam's jaw drop, which was about right, 'cause my eyes were practically bulging out of my head.

Knock our socks off?

Try _blow a fucking hole in the cabin wall!_

"Wh-what?" I stammered, sitting back in my seat in shock. "How?" The shock soon turned to anger, however. "You sure kept that one quiet, huh? Anything else we should know?"

"Yes," Sire replied, calmly. "Mary Winchester, or _Campbell_ when I first met her, was a hunter, from a long line of hunters. It's in your blood."

Sam's mouth shut again with a loud snap, and my eyes were burning.

Apparently, they first met on a hunt for a stray, and after that, ran into each other occasionally whenever a hunt crossed over. Mary's father, Sam Campbell, had known what Tobius was and hadn't been happy about his daughter's association with the non-lunar, but Sire, with his usual charm and blunt honesty, managed to win a certain amount of grudging respect. The rules were simple. Swap Intel when available, whatever it took to protect humans, but that was as far as our human grandfather was prepared to trust him.

Tobius explained that one easily.

Non-lunars weren't always known to protect humans. Once upon a time, long before Tobius, we'd been as vicious, brutal and evil as vampires. Essentially, like the vamps, we evolved to support humans for the sake of our own lives, but the fact remained that we were once an evil race, with no thought or regard for the humans who shared our world.

Guess ol' gramps just wasn't the forgiving type.

My mind was reeling, and knew there was more to come.

"I was called away by an old friend of mine; he was alpha of a large pack up in Canada. They'd been having some serious _political _troubles and needed an independent advisor." Sire shook his head, "By the time it was all cleared up, and I contacted Mary out of the blue for information, she'd already married John and given birth to you, Dean."

Mom sent Tobius away, claiming she was done with hunting, that she wanted a normal life, with a normal family. Mary was pretty closed mouthed but she did let slip a few important details.

Teary-eyed and desperate, she revealed that her parents were dead, killed by a demon.

A yellow eyed demon.

Tobius begged her to explain, but Mary refused to say much more, ending their conversation with a bizarre and worrying statement.

_I won't risk losing John again._

"I suspected some kind of arrangement was made," Sire frowned, "But I was never certain until the night I killed Walker."

"Ok," I nodded slowly, trying to digest the quick succession of bomb shells. "What kind of arrangement? Involving who?"

Tobius' gaze slid to Sam, who virtually gulped when he came under our scrutiny.

"I don't know exactly," Sire murmured softly. "But I'm willing to bet it involved a trade. One soul for another, perhaps."

"Are you saying Mom _sold _me? Before I was even _born?_" Sam ground out, voice shaky with emotion.

Tobius smiled sadly.

"I can't say for sure, but that would be my best guess."

"But why?" Sam looked wounded and angry all at once. "Why would she do that to me? Why did she hate me so much? Is that why _John_ hated me?" His voice grew in volume with each question.

"Whoa, Sammy, take it easy, ok?" I grasped the back of his neck and gave a comforting squeeze. "Just calm down and we'll figure this out."

_And let me tell you, Mom loved you like crazy, kiddo._

"What's to figure out?" Sam retorted bitterly, ignoring my thoughts, and shrugging off my hand. "My own _mother_ somehow sold me to a _demon_. So what the hell does that mean? Is he coming for me?" He turned to Tobius. "Well? Is he? Is that what this is about? Payment of a _debt?_"

Tobius leaned forward.

"No. The demon said we ruined his plans; that he would make us _all_ suffer. Whatever contract Mary agreed to, I think it negated," Sire's intense gaze met mine, "when Dean turned you. And that's made our friendly neighbourhood demon rather... er... _miffed._"

Huh. Now there's a curveball. Seems I saved Sam in more ways than one all those years ago.

But Tobius had more to say.

"Your mother died on the ceiling of _Sam's_ room, slashed and burning." One eyebrow rose slowly. "I don't know what lead up to it, but my guess is the demon turned up to collect that night. Mary just got in the way."

"Blood," I whispered suddenly. "He put something in Sam's blood. Right?"

Tobius looked pensive, but Sam was becoming more and more agitated.

"Dean? What the _hell _are you talking about?"

I grabbed Sire's arm.

"You told me once; I did something that had _never been done before_ when I turned Sam, that is was unheard of for a werewolf to turn a sibling." I searched Sire's face, for any sign of agreement. "That's what you think this is, huh? The demon did something to Sam's blood when he was a baby, which allowed me to turn him into a non-lunar when he reached his teens."

"As an unknown side effect, yes," Tobius nodded. "It's the most likely explanation."

"But you mentioned 'others'," said Sam, looking pale and ill. "What did you mean by that? And _special talents?_"

Kid had a point. As if the ability to grow fur and change into a wolf at will wasn't special enough.

Sire blew out a breath. "You boys aren't the only children to lose their mother under such circumstances. There have been... _others_. And those children have all begun to show evidence of psychic ability." He turned back to me. "The blood theory does seem to explain a lot. Something happened to all of them the night their mother's were killed. And just like Sam, they were all six months old."

This wasn't Sire's own research.

Apparently, Pastor Jim had been the one to dig up the info on the other kids. It had to have been slow going. The yellow eyed demon didn't give them much to go on, but with a lot of time, effort and patience, not to mention some seriously heavy duty search engines, Pastor Jim uncovered a whole string of families across the country who had suffered a similar tragedy. Young mothers burned to death in house fires, fathers making some pretty bizarre claims about shadowy figures, their wives pinned to the ceiling, and in some cases the kids were taken into care.

The priest even managed to track down a few of these children from sealed records in Child Protection Services. And that tells you a little more about our friendly cleric, 'cause to get into sealed files takes some doing, and the guy surely has friends in high places.

Pastor Jim tracked, cross-referenced, extrapolated, you name it, whatever those fancy terms people use during a life-long research project, and Jim Murphy had made it his business ever since a distraught John Winchester had sought his guidance one blustery winter's night, not long after Mary's death.

John had been bound and determined to find Mom's killer, and searched relentlessly for clues, signs, and advice. One contact had lead to another and, eventually, a young psychic by the name of Missouri Moseley had sent him on his way to Blue Earth, and Jim Murphy's parish.

Don't remember much beyond the fact the two became firm friends. Sam and I were often left in Pastor Jim's care when John took off on the longer and more dangerous hunts, sometimes absent for weeks at a time. I liked the pastor right from the get go, and even a crying Sammy would quieten down at the sound of the guy singing hymns softly over his crib.

I suppose I should mention, at this point, it was through Jim Murphy we met Bobby Singer, fellow hunter, and owner of Singer Salvage Yard. Bobby, on top of his many other talents, is a self-taught demonologist. Anything you want to know about demons, talk to Bobby. Even university professors and theologists seek his advice on the lesser known grimoires and tomes, and many a hunter has benefited from his protection symbols and spells. Basically, Bobby is only one step away from being a full on Sorcerer, though it's a term he dislikes with a passion. In his view, absolute magic corrupts, and one only has to remember Jo Harvelle to understand Bobby's standpoint.

Singer Salvage was the scene of Sammy's first steps, and some years later, our first game of hide 'n' seek together amongst the rusted and burnt out car wrecks. Sometimes, Bobby would join in the fun, whilst John sat in the study, head buried in dusty journals and ancient texts, hence the grizzled Salvage Yard owner became 'Uncle Bobby'. It was a title he'd taken on without a word of complaint, and always carried proudly.

Though nothing was ever said in front of us kids, I got the feeling he didn't approve of the way John dragged us around the country, from place to place, never really putting down roots. It was the way he glared at John from under the peak of his ball cap whenever it was time to leave, pointedly shoving packets of freshly made chicken salad sandwiches into our hands just before John slammed the rear passenger doors shut. Sometimes, Uncle Bobby would slip me a fifty dollar bill when Dad wasn't looking.

"_Be sure you share with ya brother now, ya hear?"_

"'_Course I will. Thanks Uncle Bobby!"_

Without his occasional financial input, Sammy and I wouldn't have survived back then. John had no qualms about taking off at a moment's notice, leaving us kids to fend for ourselves. At the time, I thought I understood. But now...

I often wondered why he didn't have kids of his own; Bobby would have made a fine Dad, if the way he treated Sammy and me was anything to go by. But later I found out why. Like John, Bobby was indoctrinated into the world of hunting after his wife's death years ago. He'd never spoken of her, and I don't know exactly what went down, but I'm willing to bet a demon was involved. From what little John told me, her death broke Bobby's heart and he never recovered, and he never remarried. These days I wonder if John ever looked at Bobby and saw himself reflected back...

"So... uh..." Sam's nervous voice broke me out of my musings. "You think all these kids have special abilities... all accept me?"

Tobius' sharp gaze lit on Sam. "Is there something you're not telling us, pup?"

"Uh... well..." Sam swallowed hard, and I could sense his anxiety.

"Sam? What is it?" My hand curled round his wrist in comfort; his pulse was racing, sweat breaking out underneath my fingertips.

"I'm not sure you wanna hear this..." he began, voice hesitant.

Tobius leaned forward, eyes boring earnestly into his grandson's.

"I don't think we have a choice here, Sam," he replied gently. "Whatever it is, we need to know."

The kid closed his eyes for a second. But when he opened them again, the utter defeat and despair in his gaze filled me with dread.

"Jess died because of me..."

I was already shaking my head and about to interrupt, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

"It's true, Dean. I _knew _it was coming."

This time I was determined to put a stop to it.

"Sammy, gut feelings are just that." I stared at him, willing him to listen and believe me. "_Gut _feelings. And we don't always pay attention to them when we should. You can't seriously think..."

"Let him finish," Tobius broke in, voice sharp. He nodded at Sam. "Go on..."

I got the feeling Sire's earlier attack of the cryptics was about to be unveiled.

Sam sniffed and took a deep breath.

"It wasn't just a gut instinct," he whispered, sending a prickle of fear down my spine. "I _saw_ it. In my dreams... for _days_ before it happened." The boy's hands began to tremble. "I saw how they did it... the incendiary device... the light switch... I-I even saw her f-face just before it h-happened... she didn't know what hit her..." Sam's face scrunched up, presumably with the effort of trying to control himself. "Never saw the guy's face... but I saw _everything else..._"

As his voice trailed off, I stared at my son in shock. It took me a minute to realise Sire was speaking.

"I think it's safe to suggest that when the deal was annulled, the abilities stayed with Sam," Tobius mused. "No wonder the demon's angry. Not only did one of his special children earn a 'get out of jail free card', but he also passed go and collected the cash. Sam was effectively _stolen _from him."

Sam abruptly pushed out of his chair and struggled into a standing position.

"I-I g-gotta get some f-fresh air," he mumbled brokenly, and staggered from the room.

I was still speechless, which probably didn't help matters, but what could I say?

Great?

A psychic werewolf?

Now that's not something you see every day?

How 'bout we head to Vegas?

I got the feeling there was nothing I _could _say right then. At least nothing that would help.

Sam was probably reeling in shock, and in desperate need of some space to think. So I let the kid go.

For now.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

A few days passed by in a blur. Sam was still limping, his hip bruised and sore, but he was gradually gaining more mobility. On night time hunts we tried to keep the pace slow for the kid, not wanting to push him too far. But the young wolf was having none of it. During the day, Sam was sad, quiet even, but at night he came alive, hunting with a ferocity and enthusiasm that was shocking.

Don't get me wrong. I was glad the kid found an outlet. We were back hunting with Sire which made it all the more exciting, and gave us both a tremendous sense of _family_. But I worried Sam was burning up on the inside, letting his grief and anger get the better of him.

Somehow, it reassured me that Sam still refused to take part in the actual kill, indicating he was still our compassionate and empathic Sammy in spite of all he'd been through. But the fact remained; kid was running himself into the ground.

_Slow it down, kiddo. Take it easy for a bit._

_I'm fine, Dean…_

_You're _not_ fine. You need to rest…_

When the kid stumbled and slithered down a steep incline, nearly impaling himself on an old broken tree branch, it was time to take charge.

_Right, that's it! Stop!_

Sam looked as though he was about to disobey. His nose was twitching furiously, tail down and quivering. He glared at me, mutinous and angry, eyes glowing in the dark of the forest.

Padding forward, I stopped right in front of him, and stared him down. It took a full five minutes before Sam finally dipped his head and whined softly.

_Dean… help me, please? I-I don't know what to do…_

My boy was begging me to take away his pain, and that was the one thing I just couldn't do. This was his cross to bear, and it would shape him in the years to come, make him stronger and tougher than ever. Such things always came with a price, and Jess was Sam's payment, unfair though it seemed. He'd suffered so much in his short life, from John Winchester's physical and mental abuse, Gordon's cruel and humiliating torture with the silver collar and manacles, Caleb's betrayal and retractable grappling hook, Jo Harvelle's hex bags, and now pretty much the entire hunting community was hardwired against us.

But the ultimate final straw, to find out our mom had sold him down the river before he was even born, to a fucking _demon_ of all things. Yeah, consider that donkey's back well and truly broken. Mary Campbell Winchester sure found her soul mate in John, 'cause as it turned out, they were as bad as each other.

Even now, with the deal annulled, the poor kid still wasn't free. With a powerful and angry demon on his tail and the possibility that his psychic abilities were only just getting started, Sam's future looked bleak. More to the point, o_ur_ future.

So yeah, if Sam took something away from all this, it was going to be strength and endurance. His family would make sure of that.

I sighed heavily, moved closer, and gently licked at one of his ears, noting a lone tear dampening the fur under his right eye.

_I can't promise you'll ever stop hurting, Sammy. But it will hurt less with time. Just keep on going, and never give up, Sam. Never surrender._

Sam sniffed and let me curl around him, accepting the only comfort I could offer.

Frankly, I was amazed the kid had anything left to give. But I knew he would do as I asked, and keep on going, toughing it out and facing each challenge with that essential stubborn _Sammyness_ that once made him my wonderful and geeky little brother, and now my strong, intelligent and beautiful son.

Green eyes flared briefly in the darkness ahead. Tobius winked, and slunk back into the shadows.

The hunt abandoned for the night, and with the promise of Tobius' famous Venison lasagne for our main meal, Sam and I slowly trotted back through the forest, pausing every now and then to sniff the air, and to admire our surroundings. Tobius once told me he felt at home in the mountains and forests, and I could see where he was coming from. Even Sam seemed more relaxed out here, as though the freedom were a soothing balm to his aching heart.

And _my God_ am I turning into a girl?

Soothing balm to his aching heart? What the hell's wrong with me?

_Hey Dean?_

_Yeah!_

_What's that smell? It's pretty faint, but…_ Sam's snout twitched.

I lifted my muzzle and took a good long sniff.

_Sire? Humans! There's humans coming!_

A tiny rustling in the bushes to our left, and Tobius appeared, shaking out his thick fur.

_Panic not, youngsters. I've been expecting them._

The low rumble of a powerful engine reached our ears, and I guessed they were at least another fifteen miles out. Even with that distance, the smell of burning fuel failed to hide the scent of Bobby Singer and Pastor Jim Murphy. If I hadn't been entirely convinced of their loyalty from the battle field, this sure clinched it. The two human hunters hadn't even _tried_ to cover their scent, and that was a strong sign of an allegiance to the pack.

Sam seemed a little skittish, and trotted gracefully up and down, round about and eventually Tobius ordered him to relax.

_But... what if they're here to finish what Gordon started? What if one of them is possessed by the demon?_

Sire swung his muzzle round, and eyed his grandson wearily.

_For a start, both Mr Singer and the Pastor wear Key of Solomon tattoos above their hearts; no demon can get passed those. And secondly, they mean no harm, young pup. These people risked their lives for us._

Tobius sounded a little sharp, and I could understand why but shot him a furious warning glance anyhow. Which was about as effective as going after an elephant with a peashooter.

_Yeah, I know… it's just… with everything that's happened… I don't know who to trust! _Sam replied, hesitantly.

Tobius' eyes softened with sympathy. He tilted his head to one side, and regarded his nervous grandson. Sam sat back on his haunches, head and shoulders drooped in submission. Sire's snout gently nudged the youngster, until Sam lifted his muzzle to meet Tobius' gaze.

_You do know you can trust us to protect you?_

_Of course! _Sam sounded a little hurt that his grandfather felt the need to question him on that score, but I guess turnabout is fair play. Now he understood how Tobius felt when the kid spoke his fears aloud.

_Then hear this._ Tobius leaned in and placed a gentle paw over one of Sam's. _Nothing bad is going to happen to you, no one will ever be allowed to harm you again. Not with us around._

Moving closer, I hemmed my boy in from the other side, and rubbed my snout against his ear. Faint tremors ran through his body, but slowly faded as he began to relax.

_Damn straight, kid. You're my son, and no one gets near you without my say so. I'll always be here to protect you._

As promises go, they were highly presumptuous and, something told me, pretty damned impossible to keep.

But, if necessary? We'd die trying.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

We waited outside the cabin, on the veranda, in human form and fully dressed. Sam shifted from foot to foot, but settled down when I stood next to him, a hand firmly squeezing his shoulder. His gaze met mine briefly in a silent 'thanks'. Sometimes we don't have to read each other's thoughts to know what's going on.

Another five minutes passed by before the engine grew louder and powerful beams of light swept across the sky. A large black pickup truck crept over the brow of the hill, then, with a loud, impressive roar of eight cylinders and Christ knew how many horses under the hood, shot up the track and screeched to halt. The suspension rocked as the two front doors flung open, and the occupants jumped out.

But the big surprise came when a rear door opened, and a third member of the group alighted.

Tobius stepped forward and jumped from the veranda, landing in front of the newcomers with barely a sound.

"So," he bowed congenially. "Any news of the others?"

Lenore grimaced. "The two that escaped the battle are still out there. The demon trained them well, it seems."

"You can bet your ass they'll be heading this way, 'cause it won't take 'em long to find this place," Bobby announced with his usual tact and diplomacy. "Probably with that yellow eyed sonovabitch in tow."

Sam stiffened up under my grasp.

_Easy Sam._

_No. Bring it on. Let's take this bastard out once and for all._

Tobius growled in our heads.

_Too hasty, young pup, and not enough info. That kind of ignorance will get you killed._

Almost as if he'd heard our silent exchange, Pastor Jim cleared his throat.

"We have information about this demon, and it's not pretty," he paused and stared hard at Sam. "You aren't off the hook yet, I'm afraid."

Like _that_ was news.

"What kind of information?" Tobius jumped in ahead of me.

Bobby stepped up on to the veranda, and in a lightening move that took us completely by surprise, tugged Sam into a fierce hug. Pretty slick for a human, huh?

Pulling back after a few long minutes, Bobby's eyes were watering, his smile shaky and emotional.

"I'm so sorry, kid. If I'd known what John was doing to you…" the grizzled hunter shook his head in despair. "Bastard deserved everything he got."

He turned to me and I accepted a hug of my own, though it didn't last as long 'cause I was anxious to hear what they'd found out. Bobby seemed to sense my impatience, and nodded, scratching the back of his neck.

"We know who and what he is. We found out exactly what he did to Sam and the other kids." Bobby stared at Sam, eyes narrowed as though what he was about to impart hurt him deeply. "In your nursery, when you were six months old, he bled into your mouth, effectively tainting you with demon blood. Sam, you were his favourite, and he plans on getting you back. He's sent the other children after you."

Ok, that was a little creepy. The thought of specially gifted humans on the hunt for us should have been laughable, but none of us was smiling. I got the feeling there was a punch line on the way, and Bobby proved me right.

"They've all been trained in their powers, can move objects with their minds, one of them can even summon demons," Bobby glanced at Lenore who nodded, and continued in his stead.

"They may be humans, but don't be fooled," the chief vamp was mainly speaking to Tobius, though the occasional glance at Sam and me confirmed she was addressing all of us. "These people are highly dangerous, and will stop at nothing to find Sam and give him back to Azazel."

"Azazel?" Tobius raised an eyebrow.

"That's the demon's name," Lenore confirmed.

"What the _hell's_ this all about?" Sam suddenly roared, and leapt off the veranda, closing in on the head vampire, stance blatantly threatening and challenging. "What does he _want_ with me?"

Before anyone could blink, Tobius and I grabbed him, holding him off. I could feel his arm and shoulder muscles tense and straining in my grip, as the kid tried his hardest to shake us off.

_C'mon kid, just cool it, ok? This ain't helping…_

Sam wouldn't answer, just tugged pointlessly at his arms and glared at Lenore, silently demanding an answer.

_Sam. _Tobius voice was sharp and uncompromising in our heads. _Either you calm down, or we will march you into the cabin and leave you handcuffed to your bed until you do!_

Now, that sure worked, and fast. Sam instantly went still, sagging between us, but the flared nostrils and heaving chest told me this was far from over. My hot headed son was under stress. Much more of it and he was bound to explode.

Tobius nodded apologetically at Lenore, who smiled sadly. She didn't seem in the least bit worried.

"I know it's hard, Sam," she whispered softly. The vamp reached out with a pale hand and cupped Sam's jaw, running her thumb over his chin. "But we will figure this out. Have faith in your pack, but most of all, have faith in yourself."

Sam's chin dropped to his chest with a loud sob.

"I just… _what does he want with me?_" Sam's harsh whisper was heard by all, and no one seemed able to answer him.

Closing my eyes briefly, I felt a huge weight settle in my gut. The future loomed over us, like a dark storm cloud, heavy with the promise of trouble and heartache. We were way out of our depth, and those promises we made to Sam were coming back to haunt me.

How the hell were we meant to keep him safe? With the forces of hell gathering on one side, and _special_ humans on the other, where was the balance? Where did our chance come in to play?

Azazel handpicked these kids by making deals with their so-called loving parents, then Mickey Finned them with his demon blood, instilling special and frightening powers.

But to what purpose?

It seemed the demon's end game was anybody's guess.

And we were about to embark on one hell of a quest to find the answers.

_**The End.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS **_

_**Author's notes:**_

_**We'll leave them there for now, and once the first few chapters of Book 2 are under way, I'll start posting.**_

_**I warn you now; I'm going to be taking a bit of a break from this 'verse to finish up some other Limp Sam projects I have on the drawing board. In particular, Heat of The Moment is nearly close to completion, where we see an extremely Sick Sam with guilty Dean and John, and I hope to post in a few days.**_

_**Many thanks go out to the following people:**_

_**Darksupernatural, to whom this fic was dedicated for her birthday, encouraged me to start this fic over a year ago, and what a phenomenal success it's been, darling. So glad I listened to you.**_

_**Jen Burch, Phx and Sendintheclowns for the beta and all their support and faith. These guys have put so many hours in to this fic, I guess they own it as much as I do. Any mistakes are mine, since I have a tragic propensity to tinker.**_

_**Dancerinthedark101 for the wonderful fanart, and I hope you continue to express your talent with this 'verse.**_

_**And to the main influences: **_

_**Eric Kripke, **_

_**Sam (Jared Padalecki) and Dean (Jensen Ackles) Winchester, **_

_**Hugh Jackman (the inspiration for Tobius Le Salle), **_

_**Joss Whedon, **_

_**and, of course, to the great authors Kelly Armstrong and Terry Pratchett. **_

_**And to all other characters portrayed here, good guys and bad guys alike, no offence is meant to the actors who took these roles in the show. Just the opposite, in fact.**_

_**Cheers for all your support my darlings. So pleased you've enjoyed this fic.**_

_**Kind regards,**_

_**ST xxx**_

_**PS. If you fancy a bit of light Supernatural entertainment in the form of a good rant from me, you can find a few postings on my homepage.**_


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